


dark corners

by anightingale



Category: Batman (Comics), Batman - All Media Types, Batman: Arkham (Video Games), Batman: Arkham Knight Genesis (Comics)
Genre: Angst, F/M, Gotham City is Terrible, Post-Batman: Arkham Knight, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-02-03
Updated: 2020-02-17
Packaged: 2021-02-27 21:15:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 24,983
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22542358
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/anightingale/pseuds/anightingale
Summary: Set ten months after the events of Arkham Knight, you are struggling to move on while trying to return your life to something normal—or, as normal as one's life in Gotham can get. Jason is feeling much the same, as he buries himself in the Red Hood, pretending everything is fine.
Relationships: Arkham Knight (Batman: Arkham)/Reader, Jason Todd/Original Female Character(s), Jason Todd/Reader
Comments: 53
Kudos: 132





	1. city rain

**Author's Note:**

> I've been inspired by a bunch of Jason/Reader fics I've read over the past few weeks, and I seriously can't stop thinking about him... so here we are. I hope you like it!

It wasn’t that you hated your job, it was just that everything about it freaked you out, no matter how much you tried to calm yourself down and remind yourself things would be okay.

It didn’t use to be this way. Even though Gotham had been a shithole for the entire time you’d been living there (and absolutely even longer than that) you had known how the city worked. You weren’t an idiot; you knew the most dangerous places to avoid, the safest routes to get to where you needed to go, and that pepper spray in your bag was not something to laugh about like back home—here, it was a necessity.

The way you lived your life had almost felt normal the longer you spent there, to the point that you’d almost forgotten about how back home you didn’t have to worry about maniacal clowns, women obsessed with plants, or normal—to you, now—muggings. Shit happened every day, but at least you weren’t the one inciting the rage of the villains that plagued the city’s streets, or the thugs that populated their gangs, and you had tricked yourself into thinking that you were okay with that.

Gotham had that effect on people.

That mindset had settled into you, festering like a wound until the night Scarecrow hacked into the Gotham TV network proclaiming his master plan to let loose a new brand of fear toxin that would swallow everyone whole—all while an army led by the Arkham Knight was rolling into the city with the intent of destroying Batman. That night, nearly ten months ago now, had changed it all.

The effects of last Halloween could be felt everywhere you looked. It was ingrained into everything and it suffocated you with fear.

Scarecrow may be behind bars in a secure wing of some fancy prison you hadn’t known existed—a _prison,_ not even Arkham anymore—but you almost felt like he was breathing down your neck with every step you took. You knew his fear toxin had long been dissipated from the atmosphere but you constantly found yourself anxiously worrying about whether you’d ingested some of the chemicals in some area the cleaners hadn’t gotten to.

You knew you were messed up, and had yet to really voice anything substantial about what had happened that night, but everyone else had come back to the city and attempted to move on under Mayor Gordon, so you were trying that, too.

Looking at the clock on your phone, you cursed quietly under your breath, dodging a puddle and shivering under your umbrella while the rain beat down on the city. It was noon, and your shift was due to start in five minutes.

You still couldn’t look at the burnt diner that sat empty across the street, police tape still over the blown out windows, which really sucked because you had the perfect view of it in the café. All day long, you had a reminder of the preview that had come before opening night, and it was another thing to add to the pile of anxiety you had become.

Swallowing, you hurried past the casino and turned down a side street lined with the odd open coffee shop but mainly closed retail stores, and apologised as you bumped into someone coming out of your work before suppressing a shudder. The problem with the Nightcap was that it did its job very well, meaning its customers were not just ordinary civilians but also gang members, petty thugs and of course the average robber. You’d been held up at gunpoint in there a couple times…and the longer time was passing since Halloween the more you were realising how insane that was that that had been normal for you.

Thankfully, you hadn’t been working there and had yet to be placed on a shift when one of the big guns themselves actually came into the establishment—but you knew both Penguin and Two-Face frequented the area, and worried that it was just a matter of time before one of them did stroll in.

How would you react to serving someone like that?

 _God, I really need to get a therapist,_ you thought, bewildered, undoing your trench coat and hanging it up on a hook, umbrella closed and in its bucket.

“Just in time,” your manager, Trish, said with a weary sigh, handing you your notebook as you hurried behind the counter to grab an apron.

“I know, I’m sorry, but I’m here, aren’t I?” You grumbled, looking at yourself in the mirror and fixing your hair, out of place from the wind and the rain.

“Yeah, yeah. Just get to work,” Trish said, hand slapping the counter as she moved to serve a customer who’d just wandered in.

“Wake up late or something? You’re never late,” Josh, your coworker said to you as you punched in.

“Okay, just because I always plan to be here well in advance doesn’t mean the one time I’m in the door _on time,"_ you emphasised, "is anything weird,” you said, shaking your head at him. He raised an eyebrow and you rolled your eyes, conceding. “Okay, so my train was cancelled because something happened on one of the tracks meaning I had to catch one going an alternate route, and then it was raining so the streets were packed…what?” You demanded, as he grinned at you.

“Nothing,” he shook his head. “You were on time, I’m sorry.”

“Thank you,” you inclined your head, grabbing a tray to get set into clearing tables. “And for the record, I only am like this because I hate being out _there,”_ you said, looking out at the streets and getting a perfect view of the burnt diner, “longer than necessary.”

“I feel you,” he said quietly as you got to work.

It was a relatively slow afternoon. One of the best things about having a town riddled with crime and corruption was that that tended to be a nightly problem; meaning you were long gone by then, not on the staff for the Nightcap’s upstairs bar, and generally didn’t have to worry about bad people coming in during the day.

There were exceptions, of course, but most of the gang members who frequented the café clearly weren’t interested in starting anything serious on the premises. You liked to think it was because of how good the coffee was, and not that they were simply too tired to be bothered to during the hours you worked.

Swallowing, you finished cleaning off another table and stepped back behind the counter just as the door swung open and a man in a dark red hoodie hurried through the door, bell jingling above him, and you watched as he slightly shook himself off from the late afternoon rain while he approached the till.

You looked around for Josh or Trish but both were busy, so you put on your best customer service expression and with the most pleasant of smiles stepped up to serve him.

He was tall—taller than he seemed to want you to think he was, his shoulders slouched as they were, but he towered over you. He didn’t lower his hood, and his raven hair beneath it was clearly messed up as a result, covering a lot of his face. But, he was… _cute,_ you thought, as you realised you’d been checking him out.

“Hi, welcome to the Nightcap, what can I get for you?” You asked, the most pleasant girl in the world, feeling like a robot whenever you had to speak in this voice.

He stuffed his hands in the pockets of his dark jeans, only one hand coming back out and clutching money, which you were relieved to see, your heart rate spiking even as you had no real reason to suspect he was there to rob you.

You looked back up from his hands into his blue eyes—he looked tired, you noted—as he said quietly, “coffee. Large,” and handed over the exact amount, before pausing for a moment and adding, “black.”

You nodded. “You got it,” and entered the money into the till as he slouched away into one of the corner booths away from the main street, with the _much_ more pleasant view out into the nearly deserted side street that reminded you of the city’s suffering economy.

You looked around for Trish but guessed she was in the back room, and Josh had appeared but was busy cleaning, so you silently got to making the coffee for him. An easy enough order, you guessed, although you’d have to be seriously tired to order your coffee black from this place. Even though you worked in a café, you’d never understand the appeal of such a drink, needing at least something sweet in it to please you.

With that pleasant smile returning you brought the coffee over to the man in the booth, who was staring out at the street, watching the rain. “One coffee black,” you announced plainly, placing it before him. “I hope you like it. Someone should,” you murmured without thinking.

He looked back at you quickly in confusion, and then down at the mug with something akin to suspicion on his face. “...Why?”

“Oh,” you said waving your hand dismissively, mildly embarrassed at yourself and at how serious he took your comment, “I’m just not a fan. Could never understand the appeal of coffee like that.”

He looked up at you, the edge to his expression fading and the barest hint of amusement replacing it in those blue eyes. “I see,” he murmured, looking down at his drink once more, avoiding eye contact with you.

“Yeah,” you said awkwardly, pressing your lips together for a second as you cringed at yourself. “Well, enjoy.”

Trish had replaced you at the counter so you were free to keep cleaning up, topping up drinks when asked for, fulfilling whatever the will of the customers in there had you doing.

Really, it wasn’t so bad on days like this. Plus, you’d gotten to serve a cute boy, even if you’d only slightly embarrassed yourself. But, as you bent over a table to wipe it down, you flicked your eyes up to look at him in the corner booth stealthily, and couldn’t help but realise that despite his size, he seemed to look just as awkward as you had felt. He was doing something on his phone, and looked busy doing it, but his body posture looked terrible, like he was shrinking into himself, trying not to be seen by you, or anyone else in the café.

You dropped your eyes once more, feeling bad for judging him. Just because he was cute didn’t mean you should wonder about him like that…

A crack of thunder sounded outside as the door jingled and a group of men in jackets—yep, those were Penguin thugs—wandered in. Luckily you didn’t have to serve them at the counter, but there were so many of them that you had to help bring them their drinks.

 _This_ was the stuff you hated. As you and Josh dished out their orders, you had to politely smile as they joked loudly with each other, teasing and taunting the two of you, your body going colder than ice as you did so. The way they spoke about you, like you weren’t there but were also there, it was horrible.

“Thanks, sweetheart,” the man closest to you said, hand coming up to touch yours as you pulled away.

“Of course,” you replied automatically, and with a wink he added, “wish you could show me what else you can do with those hands.”

His buddies all cracked up as you tensed, and polite smile slipping you turned away quickly, moving to the other side of the café, hands clenching by your sides as you pretended to busy yourself tidying up the couch cushions in front of you, trying not to hear the lewd comments they continued to make about you.

You hated this place.

Stopping the arranging, you stood back straight and looked up to see the man in the corner booth watching you. Seeing you had noticed, he looked down quickly, before looking back up and slowly gesturing to his mug.

You nodded, and went to retrieve the coffee jug, walking back over with a hot, fresh brew for him.

“Same as before? You’ll be up all night at this rate,” you joked weakly when he nodded, pouring a fresh cup.

His mouth twitched. “Thanks,” he muttered, one hand coming up to rest on the table. You moved to leave, when he said quietly, halting you in your tracks, “they always like that?”

You looked down at him, watching as he slid his hands back into his hoodie so he could wrap them around his mug. “Not always,” you said hesitantly.

He _h'mmed,_ tilting his head at you, clearly not believing you. “Just them?” He asked.

You pressed your lips together, and shook your head. “No. Two-Face gang is in here just as often. Riddler gang occasionally, less so since he’s been locked up.”

He nodded, looking away and raising the mug to his lips, blowing on it before taking a sip. You watched, unsure why you were still standing there. He kept his eyes away from yours as he set the mug back down. “Is that as far as it goes?”

You frowned. What did he care? This was the kind of thing Gothamites were trained to look away from from the moment they were old enough to realise crime was a normal thing that happened in this city. “I guess,” you said, noncommittally, breaking free of whatever it was that was keeping you there and moving away to keep doing your job, but feeling the weight of his eyes watching you as you walked away.

The darkness of the storm raging outside made it feel later than it was, but you were still surprised when you looked at a clock and realised your shift was nearly up. At 7, the café stopped serving, redirecting any interested customers upstairs to the bar, and at 7:30 you were free to go. Bar opened at 8, and you never wanted to hang around as those patrons slowly began to trickle in.

Unfortunately, it was still raining just as badly as it had all day, meaning getting home would be a bitch. You sighed, clearing off the last few tables, glancing over to the corner booth, surprised to see that same man still there. It’d been a couple hours that he’d been sat there, and although he looked busy, he also really didn’t look like he _wanted_ to be there.

You weren’t sure if he knew you were about to close, so you wandered over to him, tray in hand.

“Hey, uh, sorry to disturb you,” you started as he looked up from his phone, blinking at you as he came back to the world, notebook open on the table in front of him, “but we close in ten. You can head upstairs if you want, though. Bar’s fully stocked, it’s good up there.”

He was nodding as you spoke, locking his phone and placing it in his jean pocket, closing his notebook automatically. “Sorry to keep you,” he said simply.

“Not at all. It’s just the one mug,” you assured him, sweeping it up.

“Will you be heading up there too?” He asked, rising from the booth as you began to leave. You blinked—you’d forgotten how tall he was, you thought, watching as he rolled his shoulders while he stretched, and feeling your face turn slightly pink.

“No, my shift is over,” you replied, walking away. But to your surprise, he followed you. You turned around, looking up at him in question.

His eyebrows were furrowed slightly beneath his mussed hair. “You sure those guys don’t do anything else?” He finally asked.

You sighed, looking down, wondering why you had to explain this to him. “I mean, it’s Gotham.” You looked back up at him. “Yes, of course it’s gone further than that. We’ve all been trapped on the other end of some crime.”

You walked behind the counter, placing the mug in a dishwasher and setting your tray down, thinking that was that. But after another pause, he simply asked, “Bad?”

You shrugged. Fine, he wanted to discuss this? “Attempted robberies. Successful robberies. Not for a while, but it happens a lot more than you’d think,” you swallowed, painful memories flashing through your head momentarily. It never felt good to be on the other side of a gun, no matter how much you thought you were used to it.

He nodded, clearly having gotten the answer he wanted, and leaned around to look at the stairs that led upstairs. “It get busy up there?”

You pursed your lips. “I’m not sure, to be honest. I haven’t been up there when they’re open.”

He looked back at you, raising an eyebrow. “But they’re good, you say?”

“I mean, sure.” A pause. “Well, it’s a total dive bar, but if you like that sort of thing I’m sure it has something you’d be into.”

“Hmm,” he murmured, something flashing in his eyes. “I’ll check it out, then. Thanks for the coffee, _someone_ did enjoy it,” he said by way of a subtle compliment.

He disappeared up the stairs, and you watched after him, even after he’d gone.


	2. night lights

The next day, it was mid-afternoon when that same dark red hoodie walked through the door, approaching the counter just as you happened to be behind it. You hated that it felt nice to see him again; yes, he was cute, but you had absolutely no idea who this guy was… god, he was cute, though.

“Well?” You asked, trying to ignore your thoughts, before realising you’d spoken to a customer without using your pleasant robot voice. Glancing quickly behind you you were relieved that Trish was nowhere to be seen and focused back on him.

He raised an eyebrow, hands stuffed in his pockets. He looked tired, more tired than he had yesterday, you noticed, prominent dark circles below those blue eyes.

“How was the bar?” You reminded him, feeling your ears going hot.

“Oh… well stocked,” he simply said, gazing off into the distance for a moment, before looking back at you. “ _Total_ dive, though. Just like you said. Barely anyone showed up.”

“I mean, it was raining all day yesterday,” you said reassuringly. What did you care? You didn’t even want to work up there and now you were defending it to him? Annoyed at yourself, you instead asked, “So, what’ll it be today?”

“Coffee. Black,” he said, and you frowned even as you accepted his cash and proceeded to ring it up while he walked back to that same corner booth as yesterday.

Moments later as you approached to give it to him, you said with a sigh, “I don’t understand, but here you go.”

“Sometimes people need their coffee like this to stay awake,” he said quietly as you walked away, and you stopped, looking back at him. He wasn’t looking at you, but you could tell he knew you were, his face turning slightly red as he stared down at his drink.

He didn’t stay nearly as long this time, no notebook in sight and only briefly looking at his phone. He drank his coffee, staring blankly at the table, before dropping a tip and leaving.

You didn’t mean to be watching, really, but he’d stayed so long the day before. Irritatingly, you wondered whether you’d offended him, and resolved to not speak your mind about anything to do with coffee if he ever came back.

Which he didn’t. Sort of. He didn’t come in one day, and then a couple days later he’d drop by for a drink to-go. Then, on another, he’d stay for an hour sipping slowly as he worked away at whatever it was he was working on.

Your other regulars were easy to deal with, even those who only slightly harassed you… you knew how to react to them. So again, as you walked down the street to the subway station on Friday night, you wondered why your mind was so filled with thoughts of the man in the red hoodie.

You were walking, checking your phone, and closing your eyes for a moment anxiously when you saw the time. It was late— later than you’d wanted it to be when you'd set out that night. 11 wasn’t so bad if you were in the more populated areas of the city, but Chinatown was still struggling to get back on its feet after some more concentrated attacks in the district last Halloween.

 _But isn’t everywhere?_ You thought, as you hurried underground to Chinatown station, clutching a bag of Chinese takeout. You’d met up with a couple friends after work for a quick drink, something you were sorely regretting now as the effects of the alcohol buzzed through you. You weren’t totally gone, but it was enough that you felt light, airy. And entirely too confident for your own good.

Ordinarily, a deserted subway stop would have you hanging right by the ticket booth, CCTV cameras in plain view; the place a sensible person would stand to wait for their train.

Drunk you was another story. You tagged on and wandered straight past the safety of that area and headed down into the bowels of the station, waiting right at the platform itself. You collapsed onto a seat, knowing you should be sober and trying to wake yourself up, but feeling fuzzy, blurred around the edges.

Anxiety mildly spiked through you, but as you glanced to your left and right, nobody else was waiting at the station. The lights above you flickered on and off—yet more things they had to fix—and you folded your arms, impatient to get home.

Biting your lip, tapping your foot slightly and checking your phone again, you looked up when a few guys could be heard laughing rowdily above you, boots loud on the brick of the station as they also descended down to your stop.

 _This is fine,_ you thought, glancing at them before glancing away again quickly when they stopped at the other end of the platform. They were leaving you alone— or, more likely, they hadn’t noticed you. From this distance you couldn’t tell if they were ordinary people or some more indecent types, but it didn’t matter, because a horn was blaring, and the loud grating sounds of the train approaching had you rising to your feet, clutching your bag.

The train ground to a halt before you, and a few people hurried off as you entered, feeling a bit safer now that more people were around.

Sitting down in an empty seat, you stared out the window blearily as the train slowly moved from stop to stop, away from Bleake Island and sending you closer to Bristol.

The lights of the city at night were mesmerising, you realised suddenly, staring in wonder at your city— and then blinking, turning back to the train car, because wow, you were drunker than you had realised.

Licking your lips, staring at the dirty floor, you felt yourself nodding off and shook yourself awake just in time to hear the announcement for your station, right in the heart of Bristol.

Jumping to your feet, noticing that the train car was nearly empty, you stepped off and to your dismay also saw the same group of men from before get off further down the platform. There were more people around at this stop, though, which was okay, you tried to convince yourself as you climbed the stairs to leave.

You were being ridiculous, you thought, checking over your shoulder as you were forced to listen to them all climbing behind you, too, and one of them caught your eye, flashing you a smirk beneath his hood.

You exited the station, glancing up at the timetable clock on the wall next to you— 11:30. Still not unreasonably late, but this was Gotham. And you were drunk and alone.

At least you still remembered the safest routes to get home, in the opposite direction of your work by Grand Avenue. It would be nice to live in an area that was more populated, you thought, as you walked calmly but purposively in the direction of your apartment building. But you didn’t have the money for that—so the cheaper area of Bristol it was.

You heard someone kick a trashcan behind you as you walked beneath the glow of a streetlight, and jumped slightly, looking over your shoulder again.

The men were still behind you.

Your heart raced a little faster in your chest, and you struggled against the effects of the alcohol in your system which were making you feel simultaneously confident and sluggish. You weren’t being ridiculous. It felt like these guys were following you…

Testing this, you turned down an unlit side street, walking faster now. You were still at least 10 minutes away from home, but you’d feel safer if you could trick them into leaving you be once they realised how much trouble it would be to go after you.

Swallowing, feeling your heart continuing to beat louder, you stepped out of the street onto another main one, and tensed as you heard one of the guys behind you laugh, the mocking sound of it freaking you out.

You were hurrying now. Almost power-walking, your alcohol-addled brain making you clumsy and tripping on what felt like every crack in the broken pavements of Gotham.

You crossed the street—no cars around, no pedestrians either, as was normal for your area this time of night—and making a quick decision turned down another unlit side street, then turning sharply right to go down another before feeling confident and turning left to go down a short alleyway that on the other side would be a relatively fast walk to your home, which was still a few blocks away.

But you’d underestimated them. One of the men stepped out casually to block your exit, and as you paused mid-step, looking behind you, you saw four more of them turn the corner and begin walking slowly towards you.

“What’s the rush, sugar?” One of them behind you asked, freezing you.

“What if we told you the Penguin was on the lookout for a pretty little thing like you?” The one in front of you said mockingly, stepping closer, and stepping into the moonlight for you to be able to finally recognise the Penguin’s emblem on his jacket.

“Been huntin’ for a while, baby,” another said. “We don’ wanna disappoint the boss. D'you?”

You felt sick, like walls were closing in on you. Trapped. Cornered. _Alone._

You had no idea what the Penguin could want with you, but in a moment of welcome clarity remembered the pepper spray buried in your bag. Dropping your takeout, your free hand dove in to grab the green bottle, and you snapped the lid off, pointing it up at the man in front of you, who only looked mildly amused at your movements.

“It’s five against one, sugar,” he mused, not sounding scared at all, cocking an eyebrow as you backed away into the wall to your left, your bravado falling out of you as his words sank in.

“Aw, come on, I wanna see if she could even make a dent,” the man now to your far right laughed loudly.

Your back hit the wall, and your hands shook as you held the pepper spray. _Please…_ you wanted to say, but you couldn’t find your voice in your fear.

Eyes widening ever more, it felt like time froze as they began to close in on you, and without thinking you pressed down on the bottle, spraying one of them in the eyes, causing him to cry out in pain and back away, swiping at his eyes as the pepper stung him.

His friends glanced sharply to him and then back at you, as you cleared your throat, “Leave me alone,” you said, voice small and shaky. “Please.”

They sneered at you, momentary surprise forgotten, and eyes narrowing once more moved to try and grab you, before something stopped them completely.

“I’d listen to her if I were you.”

Your eyes, still wide, turned to face the sound of the muffled new voice, and watched in surprise as a man stepped out of the shadows of the alley, featureless behind the red helmet he wore, red hood up, and of most note, the jagged red bat emblazoned on his white chest piece proclaiming him to be one of the city’s vigilantes.

You’d never seen him before, but you knew him, of course—the Red Hood.

You also knew his reputation, and that unlike the Bat, not only were those guns strapped to his thighs not merely for show, he actively utilised lethal force against the criminals of Gotham.

“It’s the Hood!” One of the guys shouted, forgetting you as he reached to grab a knife from his pocket.

Red Hood rolled his shoulders, hands coming up into fists and dropping into a defensive stance while you watched the men in front of you abandon their job to capture you and instead move to try and take down the vigilante.

Your hands came up to clutch at your chest as you watched, grateful that no guns had yet to come out, the fight only using knives. Red Hood was fast—a lot faster than you’d expected him to be, being the size he was. He was big, clearly very muscular beneath the light armour he wore, and he dodged the Penguin thugs with ease, deflecting every hit, forcing each of them to drop the knives they wielded as if it were nothing.

It was like watching Batman all over again, you realised slowly, as you thought back about him… this guy wasn’t as fast as the Bat had been, but he was good. You knew nothing about fighting and yet you could see the same techniques Batman had used, although he was a _lot_ more forceful in knocking each of them to the ground than you really expected.

Lethal force, and all that.

But he wasn’t killing them—and as the groans of the downed men were slowly being added to, you saw the Hood dropkick the second to last guy to the chest, knocking him out cold, and as he crumpled to the floor the Hood was already back up, body turning quickly to pin the guy you’d guessed to be in charge with the blank, deadly look of his helmet. Before he could do anything to react the thug was being thrown over the Hood’s shoulder and smashed to the ground, arm bent awkwardly above him as he fell.

“Where is Penguin?” Red Hood asked coldly, not sounding out of breath at all, voice muffled beneath that red helmet. He twisted the guy’s arm almost casually, making him cry out in pain.

“Not here!” The guy only said, definitely sounding winded, and as you watched, Red Hood snapped the guy’s wrist.

“Let’s try that again. Where is Penguin?” He said, making you shiver with the coldness in his voice.

“He’s rented out a big place down by the docks. Shipping containers are down there too. I don’t _know_ the exact place, he just sends us our next instructions,” the man blathered. When he glanced up into that helmet, he cried, "I swear, that’s all I know. _Please_ let me go!”  
  
Red Hood stared at him silently, and from your view against the wall you watched as he looked down for a moment before dropping the man’s arm roughly. Grabbing the other, he twisted that arm, too, and with an audible crack that made you wince you watched his arm be broken.

“Isn’t this your lucky day, then,” Red Hood said as he knelt down close to his face.

“I… I’m free to go?” The thug asked, glancing over at you, making your heart rate spike once more.

“Yes. You’ll round up some more of your men and be on the lookout for more people to be taken to Penguin.” Dropping his arm, he said with a hiss, ice cold, “And I’ll be waiting for you.”

The man gaped up at him, fear evident on his face, and before he could say anything Red Hood reared back and punched him squarely on the jaw, making him fall over, unconscious.

You gasped, your body shaking with adrenaline, as the Red Hood now turned his attention to you.

You swallowed as he flexed his hands beneath their black gloves, stepping over the fallen thugs, slowly moving to your side. You stared up at him as he approached, hands still clutched at your chest, struggling to breathe normally.

He stared at you for a moment, before asking, “Are you okay?”

You nodded slowly, the featureless shiny red mask intimidating as hell. “Thank you,” you said quietly, sounding choked, unable to fully express your gratitude.

He cocked his head, crossing his arms over his chest, before shaking it quickly. “Yeah,” he simply said. “So, wanna tell me what you're doing out here by yourself?”

You glanced around, almost feeling boxed in again except this time feeling your ears going hot, before you remembered. “My food!” You exclaimed, and moved past him to where you’d dropped your takeout, which was now open and soaked on the dirty, wet concrete.

“Ugh,” you sighed wistfully. “Why me?”

Red Hood moved to stand beside you, silently, again surprising you—some Batman trick, surely, because being that big just didn’t make sense in your head to be able to equate to the silent ninja type…and yet here he was.

You glanced over at him, seeing that helmet turned in your direction, like he was still waiting for an explanation. Gesturing down at your feet, you said wearily, “I was hungry.”

“Hungry.” He deadpanned.

“…Before that I was out drinking?” You said with a grimace, the buzz slowly fading with the adrenaline pumping through you.

“I see.” He mused, looking down at your ruined Chinese food once more. “I suppose I don’t need to tell you that being by yourself out here is really stupid.”

“You’re by yourself,” you said quietly, which was answered with a derisive snort.

“Yeah, I’m by myself. But,” he said, one hand coming up to grip your upper arm and begin walking you down the alley, “I’m not a young woman and I can do _that,”_ tossing his chin behind his shoulder. “You’re real lucky I’ve been looking into this. Anytime there’s a group of Penguin thugs that can only mean one thing at the moment.” He turned and looked at you as you were shepherded down the alley by him, meeting his gaze with wide eyes as he said seriously, “trafficking.”

You swallowed, scared again, and turned to look where you were going. “Trafficking?” you repeated in a small voice.

 _Jesus,_ Gotham.

“It’s been going on a while now,” Red Hood muttered, sounding angry. “I’m trying to stop it. Harder than it looks with that rich son of a bitch paying off cops, informants, criminals to help him… guess he had to rebuild his empire _some_ how.”

“That’s horrible.”

“It is,” he agreed. “Which is why you need to promise to not travel alone at night. I get that you’re drunk or whatever, but think more clearly next time, alright?”

Being reprimanded by the Red Hood of all people was funnier than it should have been, and to your sobering brain the thought made you crack an amused grin. “Aye, aye.”

Stepping out onto the silent main street, he turned and wrapped his other hand on your other arm, leaning down to stare you squarely in the face. “I’m not joking.”

“I know you’re not.” You blinked, your eyes welling up with unbidden tears as you thought about what could have happened had he not shown up. _God,_ you needed to sober up, _fast._ “Thank you,” you murmured once more.

He let you go, standing back up straight, towering over you again. You couldn’t see an expression, but you could sense his bemusement. “You know how to get home?” He asked slowly, a trace of concern in his muffled voice.

You looked around. Yeah, you did. “I’m five minutes away from there.”

He shook his head, and then gestured out widely with one hand. “Then lead the way.”

“I’m sorry?”

“You heard me. A lot can happen in five minutes. I’m not leaving you alone now.”

You stared at him, making him only gesture harder. “This is non-negotiable. Where to?”

“You’re lucky you just saved my life,” you mumbled, and began walking in the direction of your apartment, Red Hood falling easily into step beside you. You didn’t super like the thought of a vigilante knowing where you lived, as that could only invite trouble for you, but you were grateful for him at that moment all the same, as the adrenaline faded. That, combined with the alcohol, and your anxiety, had you feeling exhausted.

He stayed quiet, the soft padding of his boots on the sidewalk against the loud clicking of your own boots the only real sounds in the immediate area. It had to be midnight by that point, and you watched as down the street cars slowly drove by, pedestrians wandering the streets in groups, only a couple blocks away from what could have been a terrible crime.

Again... Gotham.

As he walked you home, Red Hood stayed silent, and you were steadily regaining your footing, no longer tripping over every crack on the sidewalk. _So much for collapsing in bed and hoping for a dreamless sleep,_ you thought, pursing your lips as you felt more and more sober with every step.

Rounding a corner, your apartment building came into view, and you sighed, pointing up at it. “This is me,” you said to the man.

You watched out of the corner of your eye as Red Hood nodded. Stopping beneath the building, you looked up at your saviour once more. It felt strange to be saying goodbye to a man when you had no idea what he looked like, no real way to thank him… but you tried as best as you could. “Thank you. Seriously. I don’t even want to think about what could have happened to me had you not been there…”

He crossed his arms, seeming slightly tense. _Uncomfortable?_ Looking down, he said, “Don’t worry about it.”

You half-smiled. “Well then… stay safe, Red Hood. I hope you stop Penguin.”

He tilted his head down at you, staring for a long moment wordlessly. Your pulse picked up slightly, and you blushed despite yourself. “Goodnight. Thank you.” You said, walking slowly backwards into your building. Honestly, you probably would have given him a hug, but he didn’t look like the hugging type; not to mention sober you definitely would have died had you tried to hug him.

“Goodnight,” he said after you at last, and you smiled slightly wider. He didn’t move until you walked into the building, as you turned around to head for the stairs— _broken elevator_ —and when you turned back to try and catch a last glimpse of him and that red helmet, he had gone.


	3. birds

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for the comments so far! Feeling super inspired at the moment and just wanted to write more, so here we are with another chapter. Hope you enjoy!

Having to be at work a couple hours earlier than normal on a Saturday morning when you’d barely been able to sleep the night before was the absolute worst kind of morning to have.

After you’d showered and climbed into bed last night, you’d lain there completely awake; staring at the ceiling of your bedroom for the longest time before accepting that sleep wasn’t going to come willingly.

It was always pretty quiet where you lived, thankfully, but it was still a city, and you could hear the distant sirens, loud music as people raced by, and even occasional gunfire. It was generally not so hard to drown the sounds of the cityscape out, but even through your exhaustion you had been feeling more jumpy than usual, reacting to the slightest creak that would leave your heart racing.

 _Trafficking,_ you thought in distress as you wiped a table down. You’d nearly been sent to some nondescript location to be shipped away somewhere by Penguin mere hours ago, targeted maybe not only because you’d been drunk, but definitely because you’d been alone, and must have looked like easy prey for the Penguin’s thugs.

You’d tossed and turned all night as the implications of that ran through you, and just when you thought you’d tired yourself out, dozing off, you’d jolt yourself awake as the fear would hit you of one of them breaking into your apartment to grab you in those brief seconds your eyes closed.

So now you felt like a zombie, moving through the café, performing your daily tasks, your mind totally blank as the tiredness seeped through you. All you could think about was how very lucky you’d been that not only was a vigilante looking into the trafficking issue, but that he’d been in the same area you’d been to save you at all.

You considered this. Rumours surrounding the Red Hood had been circulating for a while, and since you had now actually met him, you couldn’t help but compare him with your own memory against what you’d heard of him. You didn’t think that he’d existed before last Halloween, which made sense as it definitely seemed like the kind of chaotic night for a new vigilante to arrive onto the scene.

If the rumours were true, though, you’d heard over the past few months that he’d slowly been building a deadly name for himself throughout Gotham's underworld. You knew about him because as you’d pour coffee, you would unwittingly hear the thugs who’d come in discussing him quietly, and how he’d been periodically taking out different groups of criminals.

So far, he’d dealt with Black Mask, Killer Moth and a bunch of other low-level villains you hadn’t heard of, and now you knew firsthand that he’d definitely turned his sights on Penguin.

The thugs talked about him in a much different way than they did Nightwing or Robin, and you thought that if you hadn’t worked where you did you likely would not have known he existed. Red bat on his chest or not, he didn’t seem interested in helping Gotham publicly like the Bat had, or like Nightwing and Robin.

But he was still helping, even if it was in a different way… last night had proven that.

He’d saved your life.

You were so wrapped up in thoughts of the Red Hood that you had to be tapped on the shoulder by your manager to bring you back to your job. _God,_ you were tired. You turned and looked at her expectantly, and she said quickly, already moving on to some other task, “Take this to the corner booth.”

You blinked, looking down at the drink. Large coffee black. Looking up quickly, scanning the café until you got to the corner booth, you were surprised to see the man in the red hoodie—although today the hoodie was grey.

Your first, tired thought was that you were glad to see he owned more than one jumper, as you walked over to him, but more importantly you were surprised that you hadn’t noticed him come in that day.

Stopping before him, you looked down at him and had the distinct impression he had been pretending not to know you were there, as you moved to place the drink in front of him. You misjudged the timing, though, and you surged forward even as the mug tilted too far one way and spilled out over the table with a crash, hot liquid dripping down and over onto his faded jeans.

“Shit—“

“Oh, god, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry—“ You exclaimed, frazzled, grabbing the dish towel in your apron and plopping it down to begin soaking up the coffee immediately.

“It’s okay—“

“No, your drink, I’m sorry, I’m out of it—“

He quietly rose from the seat, and as you almost thought he was walking to leave the café, he instead stopped to grab a bunch of napkins and return to your side to help you clean it up.

“It’s alright,” he said quietly, and you closed your eyes briefly, embarrassed.

He shifted next to you, moving behind you and to your other side to place more napkins down, the coffee having spilt everywhere. _Ugh,_ you sighed, looking behind you and thanking the gods Trish was busy at the other end of the café and hadn’t noticed your slip-up.

“Still,” you said quietly too, pressing down hard on your towel, “that was unprofessional.”

You saw his lips twitch as you glanced up at him quickly to assess his mood, and you realised that he really didn’t seem mad. Relieved, but still feeling mortified, you turned your attention back as you both finished mopping the liquid up, and as you did you noticed for the first time that his hands were covered in scars—a couple of his knuckles were also split, and as he pressed down, turning his hands, you could see a couple calluses. 

_Is he a rock-climber?_ You wondered, the only explanation for the state his hands were in that you could think of. Pursing your lips, about to ask him this, he said, “Maybe this is a good time to try something you’d prefer.”

Your brows furrowed. _What?_ “What?”

He looked almost amused as he looked down at you while you gathered the soaked napkins and dish towel up to dispose of, confused. “Coffee,” he explained as he placed his hands on the dry table and sat back down in the booth, the leather creaking beneath him as he shifted.

“I like coffee,” you agreed slowly, and he half-smiled, seemingly despite himself.

“Yes, but what kind? Clearly it isn’t coffee black.”

Oh. “You want recommendations!” You realised, eyes widening in understanding, as you hurried away and tossed out the napkins, putting the towel behind the counter to be dealt with once you were free, and back to him, already listing off various drinks you liked.

“I need something sweet in mine, personally, ‘cause I don’t particularly like the taste of coffee by itself,” you explained. “I can make yours black again for you if you really want, though?”

He shook his head. “I’ll have a cappuccino,” he decided, looking over your shoulder at the chalkboard menus behind you. “If it doesn’t live up to it, though, I’m going right back,” he warned.

You smiled at him, and he blinked up at you. “You got it,” you said, pleased he was going to try something new from your long list of recommendations.

As you walked away again, happier than you’d expected to be after spilling a customer’s drink, you were also relieved to realise you hadn’t thought about the Red Hood or the other events of the previous night the entire time.

Bringing his cappuccino over to him moments later—extra carefully—you still had a small, pleased smile on your face. “They say change is good,” you crowed as you placed it before him, only slightly teasing.

He raised the single eyebrow you could see, blue eyes flicking up to yours before back down again. “They do,” he said, but didn’t seem entirely convinced. He looked up at you again as he realised you were still standing there, a question on his half-hidden face.

“Oh, I’m not leaving until I get your reaction,” you said with a wave of your hand as if this was a normal thing waitresses did.

He seemed confused by this but he acquiesced, looking down again and raising the cup to his lips, blowing before taking a small sip.

“Well?” You asked, and his eyes flashed up to you, his brow tightening quickly.

“Let me finish,” he merely said, and you rolled your eyes, impatient. “It’s… sweeter, I guess.”

You waited for more, but that was all he seemed to want to say. “…I guess that’s as much as I’m gonna get, huh?” You said a moment later, only slightly disappointed. “Ah, well. At least I got you to try something new.”

He looked up at you again, still sipping slowly.

Now feeling like you were intruding, you pressed your lips together and nodded, before turning to move away when the door jingled, and a man in a black t-shirt with long black hair strolled through the door.

He was glancing around normally as he walked in, his blue eyes coming to rest on you and giving you a friendly smile as you walked over to the counter to serve him, before his eyes moved past yours to look behind you, and you watched as surprise washed over him as he did so.

You faltered in your step, glancing behind you to see who he was looking at— and it was the same guy you’d just been talking to, who now looked tense, his head turned in the opposite direction from the counter.

“Hi, welcome to the Nightcap,” you greeted him as he continued staring at the grey-hooded man, stepping around the counter to the till. “What can I get for you?”

He caught himself, turning to you once more, though you could still see the surprise evident on his face.

 _He_ was gorgeous, too. _Maybe they're models,_ you thought weakly, unable to not notice how lithe and muscular he looked, filling the black shirt he wore out nicely. “Latte, to-go, please,” he said with a flash of a charming smile, and you tried to ignore your heartbeat as it picked up.

You rang up his order, looking at him to tell him it’d be a few minutes, and he gave you a wink as he walked away, off in the direction of the corner booth.

You couldn’t hear what he said, though you wished you could; the grey-hooded man seeming to tense even more as the other man approached, sinking into the seat opposite him. The hooded guy turned to glare at him as he did so, saying something, but the other guy didn’t seem bothered by this at all, saying something calmly in return.

You watched the exchange as you made the latte, enraptured. Who were they? What were they saying? _Why did you care?_

 _Because they’re two gorgeous guys in your otherwise dull-yet-freaky workplace?_ You thought, putting a lid on the travel cup several minutes later and walking over slowly to bring it to him.

“Go away, Dick,” the hooded guy was saying as you approached, his eyes flashing to you as he noticed you coming closer. You noticed the nickname; they must not like each other if he was calling him that. “I don’t _need_ your help,” he emphasised, as if he’d said this many times.

 _“Really?_ You can take on…” he stopped mid-sentence as the hooded guy jerked his head in your direction.

You paused as you stopped before them. “Sorry to interrupt. Here’s your latte, sir,” you said as you handed it over to him.

“Thanks,” the t-shirt guy said genuinely, and looked back to the guy across from him, who didn’t look like he was budging on whatever they’d been discussing. With a purse of his lips, he rose—tall, but not as tall as the other guy—and said, “B isn’t around anymore, and I don’t want you to get hurt. None of us do. Consider it.”

The hooded guy rolled his eyes and looked back down at his drink. “I’m _fine._ I can handle it.”

Your gaze flitted between them as the t-shirt guy passed you a tip wordlessly, still speaking to the other guy, “Look, Babs has been up my ass to get me to check in on you. You might wanna answer her calls once in a while,” he said, and then added. “I wasn’t looking for you, but I wish you’d listen to us. We can help.”

The hooded guy tapped his fingers on the table, not looking into the idea at all. “I’ll call her later,” he finally conceded, and the other guy looked visibly relieved. “But I don’t need your help.”

The t-shirt guy looked at you, and then back at him. “We’ll discuss this later, then. I know where you sleep,” he said, raising an eyebrow, and turned to walk away and out the door.

You watched him go, and hearing a sigh from behind you, you turned to look at him as he raked his hand over his face, slightly concerned. Was he alright? Licking your lips, you took the seat that had just been vacated, and looked at him with what you hoped was friendly concern. “I don’t mean to pry, but are you in some sort of trouble?”

He’d stopped to rest his elbow on the table, chin in hand, as he looked at you across the table. “I’m _fine,”_ he muttered.

You weren’t convinced. “I know it’s none of my business… your friend, or whoever he was, just seemed like he was—“

“Trying to help me?” The man finished, raising an eyebrow. “Yeah. He’s like that.”

You pressed your lips together and nodded. “Well. Just as long as you’re not in any danger…” you said, rising from your seat, taking the hint.

He tapped the table again with his other hand, drawing your attention back to him, as he said, somewhat awkwardly, “Thanks.”

You nodded. “‘Course. You’re in here enough. We’re practically acquaintances.”

That made him smile beneath his covered mouth, you realised, watching his facial muscles move. “What’s your name?” He asked you, dropping his hand and looking up at you, blue eyes piercing.

You gave it to him, and he nodded. “Jason,” he supplied in return, and your eyebrows twitched, pleased to have a name to put to his pretty face.

“And that guy who just left, that’d be—“

He scowled slightly, before his expression cleared again. “Dick.”

“Why?” You asked.

He seemed confused. “Why what?”

“Why is he a dick?”

He blinked, and chuckled quietly as he processed what you’d said, his shoulders shaking. “No. His name. It’s Dick.”

 _Yikes._ “God, I’m sorry.”

“No, blame him, he’s the one who goes by it,” he said, his smile fading as he looked down at his almost-finished cup, before offering something else. “We’re sort of… brothers. I guess.”

Interesting. “Oh. That's cool,” you said, supposing you saw a resemblance—black hair, blue eyes, and he sighed.

“He’s kind of annoying,” he said quietly, almost conspiratorially, making you smile, now. It sounded exactly like something a disgruntled sibling would say.

“Well, you’re lucky you have someone. It’s just me, here,” you said plainly, wanting to offer something about yourself in turn. It didn’t bother you as much as saying it like that might make it seem, but you still thought about it every now and then— your parents were far away, while you were here, out on your own in the big city. “He seemed to care about you.”

“Which you know from eavesdropping?” He said, slightly snappy which made you feel guilty immediately, because you hadn’t meant to but you’d _wanted_ to.

“Yeah… sorry,” you said, grimacing. “I didn't mean to. It’s just been a long day.”

He tilted his head at you, his tight expression fading slightly as his eyes scanned your face. “I can see that,” he murmured, and then, hesitantly, asked, “You okay?”

Not really. “Yeah,” you said easily. “I just had a… weird night,” you said, frowning slightly, the understatement making you almost feel like you were lying. “I didn’t sleep much.”

He stared at you for a moment, before looking away and downing the rest of his drink, which had to be cold by then. “I can relate,” he said, as he dropped a tip on the table, signalling the end of the conversation.

“You know, your choice of drink sort of gave that away,” you mused, as he stood up. As he did so, his hood fell back from his face, and he reached a hand up to mess through his raven-coloured hair almost absentmindedly, glancing at you as he did so, which had the effect of showing more of his face than you’d seen before, having always been hidden behind his hair.

You noticed immediately that he had a few scars on his uncovered face too, like his hands, and as he moved to leave, turning properly to nod at you as he did so, you were shocked to your core to see a big _'J'_ on his cheek, like it was a tattoo. Only… it didn’t really look like a tattoo. It… looked like a burn…

Your expression must have given away what you were noticing, because he froze, his blue eyes filling with a mixture of emotions, and he tugged his hood up roughly, avoiding your eyes before he hurried out of the Nightcap and into the city.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just wanted to say I want so badly to write Jason with his white streak, but Arkham Knight Jason didn't go through the same thing comics Jason did, so... no white streak :( a mourning today


	4. eyes and ears

Crouching on a rooftop which overlooked a few major storage facilities located in the Cauldron, Jason was busy scanning the area, looking for anything out of place that could give him a clue as to where the Penguin was having sent the civilians his thugs had been rounding up.

So far, he had been hitting a lot of dead ends.

He’d only caught on to this problem four months ago, and was getting angrier the longer that time went on and he couldn’t put an end to it.

Annoyed, he glanced down at the scanner in his hand, hoping it would pick something up, but could only watch as it beeped unhelpfully, not picking up any of the signals he’d input to search for. The radio in his helmet wasn’t helping much either; the scum from the other night in Bristol had been telling the truth—none of Penguin’s guys really knew what was going on, they only received instructions when they needed them.

Sinking down from his crouched position, Jason let one leg extend out straight on the roof as his other knee rose up, clutching the scanner in both hands as he did so and willing it to give him a direction to go in.

_Beep… Beep… Beep… Beep…_

He stared at it for several minutes, not wanting to move on from what he’d thought was a promising location, but as the beeping continued, providing no results, with a frustrated snarl he threw it across the rooftop—watching as it hit an air vent and clattered back to the ground. Scowling at it for a moment—even as the electronics on the screen inside his helmet told him it was undamaged—he stared down at his gloved hands, clenching them to try and clear his head so he could think of where he could check next.

Jason was rarely in the best mood, but he knew he was in a worse mood than usual, and it was impacting his patrol.

No matter how he tried to distract himself, he just couldn’t stop thinking about that goddamn morning in the café; a place he’d slowly been making a part of his routine over the past two weeks. It was located relatively close to his safe house, and while he now knew it made good coffee, at the time he’d only come in in the first place because he’d heard a bunch of Penguin thugs talking about it. It had seemed like a good lead to follow up on to try and get some new intel, but he’d been unprepared for what else lay for him there.

So, he knew he wasn’t the warmest of people. And when he’d entered the coffee shop last week with another specific purpose in mind, he’d tried to stick to his initial plan of gathering intel. But then you had been there almost every time he had, too, and _you_ were warm. Even though he barely spoke to you each time he was in there, deep down it felt nice to talk to someone normal when he did, someone who had no idea who he was, and who had no expectations of him.

Plus, it was kind of hard to ignore the fact that you were… really cute.

He could hear Bruce’s voice in his head, as he did whenever he felt he was drifting off track, chastising him for losing sight of his mission. That voice had been a constant companion for years now whenever he felt like he was failing, but ever since Bruce’s death it didn’t bring him the same kind of angry pain it once did; now equal parts guilt, sadness and betrayal flooded through him, warring with one another over how he viewed the man.

He hadn’t gotten to properly speak to Bruce before the Manor had exploded last year, and even though he had helped to stop Scarecrow in the end by saving Bruce’s life, he still had a lot of things he wished he could say to him, but now he never could.

Jason knew he was messed up. What— what _he_ had done to him in the Asylum all those years ago had warped his view of Batman and as he’d been tortured a rage inside him had built more and more until it all exploded out of him last Halloween. He couldn’t just move on after he’d calmed down and realised what he was doing — thanks to Batman — but he also had never wanted to look at the Arkham Knight armour he’d worn for years ever again.

Just the name alone was enough to bring him straight back to the Asylum, Harley Quinn’s shrill voice taunting him, ringing through his head, _“Look at Arkham’s Knight in shinin’ armour, puddin’!”_

Breathing heavily, Jason looked up, staring straight out at the night cityscape, blinking rapidly and struggling to stop himself from shaking, trying to calm himself from his memories. He focused on the buildings, on the bright lights shining in the distance off the skyscrapers, the view of the ocean as it lapped against the docks, anything to keep himself in the present and not back in that _room._

His gaze turned to the Clock Tower, and he paused on it as it stared back at him almost tauntingly, remembering that he said he’d call Barb later but also with his bad memories so close to the surface remembering how he’d allowed for her to be taken from her apartment last year, using her as bait…

Swallowing, hoping it would at least provide a distraction, he pulled out his phone—several generations older than the latest models he saw people carrying around now—and dialled her number.

It rang for a couple seconds before it clicked and he heard, “Hello? Jason?”

He looked down, staring at the concrete of the roof he was sitting on. “It’s me. Dick…”

“I know,” she said quietly. Jason listened to a siren go off in the distance before Barbara finally said, “I’ve been worried about you. We _all_ have.”

He sighed, trying to not let that get to him even as it cut at his heart. “Yeah? Well, try and get it through both the Boy Wonder and my Replacement’s thick heads that I’m fine, alright?”

Silence on the other end. “You’re fine?”

Jason shut his eyes. _I’m fine_. “What do you think? Yeah. I’m _fine.”_

“I think that you’re not fine. I think that Black Mask and Killer Moth are pretty clear indications of you not being fine,” she said, quietly but not accusing.

Jason opened his eyes again, his expression tightening. _“They_ were scum.”

“They were,” Barbara agreed easily. “I’m just saying—“

“What? That I shouldn’t be killing? Gonna give me the good ole’ _‘one rule’_ speech I’ve heard a thousand times before?”

“I wasn’t going to say that,” she said, slightly hurt. “I don’t agree with what you’re doing, but in your own, different way…you are helping. And I want to help you.”

“I’m fine—“

 _“Please_ stop saying that,” Barbara said, tone cutting. “I know you’re not, and that’s _okay._ I just want you to stop isolating yourself from me, from the others. We’re all we’ve got now. We should be working together to bring down this trafficking ring.”

“You know about that?”

“Of course I know about that, Jay.”

Yeah, he supposed she was right. Eyes and ears of Gotham... “I didn’t know.”

“How could you? I haven’t seen you since you tried to pretend you weren’t at the funeral.”

It had been a rainy day then, and he’d stood as far away from the actual burial as he could, uncomfortable with the entire thing. They hadn’t been able to bury bodies, but after the police had swept through the Manor inch by inch and come up with nothing, none of them had really wanted to look harder for Alfred or Bruce’s corpses.

That had been ten months ago now, shortly after the events of Halloween. He sighed. “I just don’t like being checked up on, Barb. I’m fine on my own.”

“Even if I can help? Four sets of eyes is better than one,” she said, quietly encouraging. “I know you’re uncomfortable being around us, especially around Tim, but—“

He grimaced. He didn’t like to think of his Replacement; he'd only seen him in person a few times. “I don’t need help.”

Another long pause. “You know who you’re sounding like right now?”

 _Fuck._ “Don’t say it.”

“You’re sounding like Bruce,” she said, slightly amused but still with a hard tone. “Just… would you come to the Clock Tower? Please?”

He looked up at said building. It wasn’t so far from where he was. “Barb…”

“I _will_ send Dick and Tim after you,” she said warningly.

Ugh. “Fine,” he said petulantly, “I guess I'm on my way then.” Getting to his feet, he walked over and picked up his scanner, tucking it into his jacket.

“Good,” Barbara said, pleased, and he rolled his eyes before hitting end call.

Five minutes later, he was grappling up onto the roof of the Clock Tower, walking over the stones and pausing for a second, bracing himself mentally for whatever series of questions he was about to be bombarded with, before he unlocked the secret entrance and dropped down into Barbara's apartment, landing with a quick roll before rising back up.

Barbara was at her computer, her holographic screens projected in front of her, as she tapped away at something with lightning speed. She looked over her shoulder at him as he slowly walked forward to stand next to her, following his movements behind her glasses.

It was a lot more awkward than he’d thought it would be.

“It’s good to see you,” Barbara said sincerely, running her eyes over him quickly, assessing him—this was the first time she’d seen him as Red Hood in person, he realised. “Would you remove the helmet? Don’t really want to speak to a blank mask.”

Wordlessly, he reached behind and clicked the release, reaching up and pulling it off, letting his hood fall as he did so. He always felt self-conscious when his face was exposed like this, running a hand through his hair to try and save it after being squished beneath his helmet, trying not to let the memory of your reaction to seeing the brand on his cheek that morning run through him even as it did.

“You wear a domino mask beneath that thing?” She said, confused but amused as he fixed his hair.

He rolled his eyes, dropping his hands back to his sides. “What do you want, Barbara?”

He was grateful that she didn’t comment or linger on the brand on his face, her blue eyes glancing at it but moving past it quickly.

She turned back to her computer, and pulled out a USB stick, handing it back to him. “Intel. Everything I have on Penguin and his little ring,” she pursed her lips, looking back to her screens as he reached out and took it. “Dick and Tim have been my eyes on the ground. I would love for you to join us, Jason.” She glanced at him again. “We could bring it all down together.”

Jason looked down at the USB before looking at the back of her head as she turned back to type away. _“Your_ idea of bringing down a trafficking ring is different to mine, though. You sure you’re fine with me doing that?”

Barbara’s hands as they flew across her keyboard paused, and she turned in her wheelchair fully to look up at him. “It’ll bother Dick and Tim. I don’t like it, but I want you to stay in our lives. I know Dick feels the same way.”

He pursed his lips. “Even if I kill the Penguin?”

“I don’t want you to do that. Bruce wouldn’t want you to, Alfred wouldn’t… but I’m not gonna shut you out if you do. You’re hurting. You’ve been through things I can’t even imagine—“

Jason glanced down at her wheelchair. “Maybe not as much, but I think you can,” he said quietly.

She paused, and closed her eyes for a long moment, before looking back up at him. “You’re right. I have an idea of it, more than the others. He stays with me, too,” she said, and with a sudden chill he knew exactly what she meant. “No matter how much time has passed.”

Jason had never spoken to her about what happened to her; he'd never been able to, as he knew it’d happened during the year he’d been in the Asylum. He looked away.

She let out a long breath. “Anyway…” she murmured, trying to ease the tension, “take a look through the drive. It’s a lot to get through. I don’t know how Penguin is managing to hide this so well…”

“I do,” Jason interrupted, looking back at her. “He’s paying off the right people.” Crossing his arms, he listed, “I’ve found out about several officials, some of them cops. Several informants also know that _their_ informants have been paid well to not speak about it. Penguin’s thugs know nothing, and he doesn’t seem to be working with any other gang in the city. If he is, they’re staying real quiet about it.”

Barbara listened, and then nodded, turning back to her computer. “I know they’re mainly targeting women, but children have been caught up in it, as have some men. He’s doing it slowly, but precisely; I’ve got a list in there with all the missing people that have been reported over the past few months.”

Jason nodded. “Old news to me. I don’t know when he started, but he had to have been planning this for a long time.”

“Since Halloween,” Barbara agreed. “He lost a lot that night—Bruce and Dick destroyed a lot of his money, and his reputation fell badly as a result.”

“So what would you have me do?” Jason finally asked, eyes flitting across the screens before them as various reports popped up all over the screens.

“Tim’s looking into a lead right now, but he’s on his normal patrol so he's busy. Dick’s been struggling to balance everything, because technically he still lives in Blüdhaven…” Barbara looked up at him. “Progress is slow-moving. You seem to be _only_ interested in this, according to Dick, so I think we could cover a lot more ground with your help. We’ll find them, and we’ll stop him—and I’d really like it if you didn’t kill him, but I’m not gonna stop being your friend if you do.”

“The current plan though is to just continue sweeping Gotham. The easiest thing I’ve been able to think of is luring a group of them out with bait so we can see where they would take the bait, but the profile for the bait is harder to match than I’d like with my current options,” she grimaced. “They seem to have been told very specific parameters about who to take, and, well… I’m in a wheelchair, and Dick and Tim—and you—look like street fighters. We’d never be targeted.”

Jason frowned, thinking back to that night in Bristol where he’d saved you. “You want to use bait?”

Barbara shrugged. “It’s a last resort, for the moment. If we can find Penguin’s new lair without going that route, I’ll be happy, but if we can’t… I don’t even know who’ll we be able to convince… too bad we don't know what Catwoman's up to.”

Trying to find a civilian to agree to that would be difficult, and he seriously doubted Catwoman would be into the idea, even if any of you knew her secret identity. But again…unwittingly, thoughts of you drifted through his mind. They’d already targeted _you,_ hadn’t they?

The only problem was he didn’t know you, and he couldn’t exactly stroll up to you after that day in the café and ask if you were comfortable doing something he wasn't sure _Catwoman_ would like. Clearly, you wouldn't be; the dark circles under your eyes the most obvious indication of how afraid you’d been that night, and the fact you'd admitted to barely sleeping.

Plus, just from one look at his face, you had looked afraid... he didn't know if he could live with himself if he got you caught up in this and you got hurt because of it.

He cringed away from the memory of your reaction, his stomach twisting painfully. He felt so embarrassed… he couldn’t even look at _himself_ in the mirror, how could he expect _you_ to? How could he ever face you again?

“Jay? Are you alright?” Barbara’s concerned voice cut through his thoughts, and he pressed his lips together. Maybe… maybe she’d know what to do about that?

_But it's so embarrassing…_

Jason’s arms crossed tighter over his chest, defensively, as he struggled to find a way to phrase his question. He scowled down at the wooden floor of her apartment, before saying quietly, “Don’t laugh at me. But… there’s this girl…”

His eyes flashed up to hers quickly, looking for any trace of amusement, but she only looked curious. “A girl?” Barbara asked.

“She works at this café I’ve been going to. In Bristol,” he explained.

“The place Dick saw you today?”

Jason nodded curtly. “I’d heard some Penguin thugs talking about it… it doesn’t matter. What _matters_ is that she… she saw my face today.”

Barbara took a moment to try and understand what he meant. “When you were Red Hood?”

Jason sighed. “No, I’d already saved her as Red Hood. She doesn’t know about… that part of my life.”

Jason could tell Barbara wanted to ask what he meant by that as he looked at her, but she held her tongue, and instead asked, “So, she saw your face in the café? What’s so bad about that?”

“She saw this,” he snapped, jerking his head to the side so she’d get a clear view of the ugly burnt brand on his left cheek. “And she froze up.”

Barbara’s eyes furrowed, also looking at the brand, but she didn’t look at it for long; she didn't show any visible reaction to it like you had. But he knew she'd seen much worse things. “Jason…”

“What am I supposed to do about it?” He asked, a lot more worried than he would like to be. He didn’t like the thought of you being afraid of him. Or being… being disgusted by him.

“Did she say something about it?” Barbara asked quietly.

Jason shook his head. “But she would’ve. Her face…”

“She sounds like a normal person, Jason. She was probably just concerned about it... it's..." she searched for a way to phrase it, "it's pretty... horrifying."

He knew it. “Horrified. That's exactly it. There’s a big ugly damn brand on my face, and I could never tell her about why it’s there… and she's horrified. She’s got to be thinking I’m a freak… she’ll be disgusted… she’ll think I’m weak…”

“No, Jason! She’ll be _upset_ for you. She'll think something terrible happened. Which it did!”

Jason cringed, his fists tightening over his chest, wanting to curl into himself.

“I would just tell her you don’t want to talk about it if you see her again. She doesn’t need to know. If she likes you, she’ll respect you asking her not to,” Barbara said gently, and Jason felt his face going slightly hot.

“I didn’t say anything about _liking—“_

“No, you didn’t need to,” Barbara said, an annoyingly knowing tone to her voice, making Jason forcefully pull his helmet up and back down over his face, sealing it behind him.

 _“Don’t_ tell Dick.”

Barbara nodded, a small smile on her face which Jason hated. “I won’t. You can trust me.”

Jason rolled his eyes, and turned to leave back up the way he’d come in. “Whatever. I’ll..." he looked back at her briefly, before flipping the USB drive he held around, "I'll look into this.”

“And you’ll call me when you decide!” Barbara shouted as he grappled up the secret entrance onto the roof.

God, this really wasn’t what he wanted. Having to deal with the other bats again… while also trying not to worry himself over your reaction to his face, knowing that it would only dredge up terribly painful memories… Barbara was right. You didn't need to know what happened to him. He'd just need to be _brave,_ he thought with a scoff as he stepped and launched off the building, and tell you that it was none of your business. Or something nicer to that effect.

As he thought about that, he realised that he sort of liked that he'd gotten to talk to Barbara again. The last time, it'd been because she'd noticed him off to the side at Bruce and Alfred's funerals, and then he'd shoved her off, and then Dick and Tim had approached and it had all been way too much, too fast. Dealing with them one at a time, in small doses, was better for him at the moment. They were just too intertwined with some parts of his past he'd like to bury.

But in the other part of his life, the part where he'd met you without meaning to... he'd really need to figure out what to say to you, because he did really like your coffee.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you ever want to feel completely heartbroken, go read up on the Jason Arkham Knight wiki page... been doing a lot of reading about him and everything lately to fill in some blanks and ohhhh man my entire state of being is dead inside.


	5. seventh floor

It had been a week, and Jason hadn’t come back to the Nightcap once.

The fact you hadn’t seen him in that long after your disastrous reaction had left you feeling cold all week, your heart hurting with guilt. Jason must keep his face hidden for the _exact_ reason of not wanting people to notice and stare at the burn on his face and yet what had you gone and done?

You’d gotten one quick look and had gaped up at him like he was an awful art piece on display.

It was making you feel terrible. Horrible ideas of what could have happened to him had been racing around your head, each idea worse than the last. You knew from his reaction that whatever had happened had had to be bad.

Your dreams, when you’d dreamed of him—because _that_ was a thing that was happening now, when sleep came to you—had been twisting your memory of the burn until it was even worse to think about…

Still, it really wasn’t any of your business, and if he ever did come back, you were determined to make sure that he knew that. You were just… concerned about him.

You were finding it really hard to enjoy your day off, you thought with a sigh, hands in the pockets of your coat as you walked down the street to your local supermarket. Ordinarily, this was your day to laze about, _maybe_ run some errands, but otherwise do absolutely nothing. Instead, you were thinking about how you’d hurt Jason, while feelings of the night you’d nearly been taken were leaving you on edge.

You looked up as a few autumn leaves fluttered off the few trees lining the cobblestoned street, a gust of wind twirling your hair all about your face. It was a bitingly cold late afternoon, and you were sorely regretting your decision to leave the warmth of your apartment to brave the streets.

The supermarket was busier than you’d expected, you noticed as you pushed your trolley up and down the aisles absentmindedly, movements automatic. You hadn’t had the time to go shopping in a while so your cupboards were sorely in need of replenishing, but after work for the past few months you'd never really wanted to linger outside.

Thanks to the fact you lived in a big city like Gotham, you were all too aware of the risks carrying shopping bags posed; being an easy target for muggers, robbers and any other awful criminals eager to follow a young woman home, except now you had the extra worry of being a target for an entire goddamned trafficking ring.

But you couldn’t live off ramen one moment more, you thought with a grumble, as you grabbed items off the shelves. Turning the corner, your thoughts distracted still, you almost missed the fact that you recognised the only other person in that aisle. Doing a double-take, you shook your head in wonder.

How you could live in a city with a population of 6 million and bump into Jason at your supermarket was beyond you, but you were pleased to see him all the same.

“Jason!” You exclaimed with a smile, the object of your thoughts for the past week jumping slightly as he turned to look at you as you approached him swiftly. “Hi,” you greeted, pleasantly surprised.

He was holding a box of cereal in his hands, but you saw how quickly his hands started to fidget as he held it. He was nervous.

And the guilt was back.

He said your name in tense surprise, too, but made it sound like a question as his brows furrowed. “What are you doing here?”

You gestured to your trolley full of groceries. “Saving the world.”

You watched his mouth twitch, and cautiously turn properly to look down at you. His hood was up—he was back to wearing that deep red one again—so you couldn’t see the burn on his left cheek even as you tried not to look for it.

You didn’t even know how to start. But before it could get awkward, you blurted out, “I haven’t seen you in so long.”

Jason glanced away before his eyes slowly moved back to yours. “Yeah,” he said, still sounding tense.

Your heart rate picking up, it all just came out at once. “I’m so sorry, Jason. I didn’t mean to stare at you. It’s none of my business, and I’m sorry for making you uncomfortable. Truly.”

Jason looked down, pursing his lips as he placed the cereal box in his hands into his basket. With a sigh, he looked back up at you. “Yeah. I just didn’t know how… how to walk back in,” he said quietly, stuffing the hand not holding his basket into his jacket pocket. “How to face you again.”

God. “I’m really sorry,” you said again.

“I’ve been trying to work up the courage to come back,” he explained, his eyes cautious. “I don’t want to talk about it, but I also don’t want you to think that I’m not…” he grimaced, searching for the words, “uh, _grateful,_ I guess.”

You nodded in understanding. “Of course. And it isn’t my business at all. Seriously. I keep cringing at myself for how I reacted…”

He nodded, his shoulders relaxing slightly, though they remained slouched. You got the feeling that it was difficult for him to say thank you.

You sighed, relief washing over you that he didn’t absolutely hate you, and moved to keep walking down the aisle. To your surprise, though, Jason fell into step with you.

“Planning a party?” Jason asked, looking at the contents of your trolley.

You blushed. “No." A sigh. "I just don’t like being out and about very much.”

“I get it,” he said. “So this is you preparing for the apocalypse, then?”

“Shut up,” you rolled your eyes. “So, I’ve let my food stocks get a little low.”

He followed slowly after you, not picking up anything else as you did, which made you curious about what he had. Curiously, you looked inside his basket, and could see one single box of cereal, several ready-made meals, and then copious amounts of bandages, safety pins, staples… weird. If he was into a lot of outdoor sports and stuff, though, you guessed it made sense.

He followed you to the counter next to yours once you were done, his groceries all neatly fitting into one small bag. You, on the other hand, had bought a lot more than you’d really intended to—four bags full to the brim.

With a grimace, you lifted them, feeling your muscles strain as you did so. You had to walk _twenty minutes_ to get home from here, and carrying these…

“You alright?” Jason asked.

Your mouth twisted, looking down at the single bag he had to carry, your arms already feeling overworked.

_Too bad you couldn’t just commandeer your trolley to make your walk easier…_

“…You need me to carry those?” Jason asked as he moved to stand beside you, already shifting in place to reach out and take the bags from you.

“Don’t be silly, they’re way too heavy for you to take by yourself…” you said, even as he took all of them from you and wordlessly passed you the single bag he had.

Okay then.

He looked fine, you thought, watching as he shifted them into a more comfortable position in each hand, and inclined his head as you looked up and into his blue eyes. You raised an eyebrow. “Way to show off,” you said.

He rolled his eyes, but you thought he looked slightly embarrassed. “Where to?” He simply asked.

“My place?” You said, like it was a question, as you walked outside. “It’s… uh, it’s a bit of a walk,” you said. “You sure you don’t want me to carry some too?”

“It’s fine,” Jason said, shaking his head. “Lead the way.”

“Alright…” you murmured.

Jason didn’t complain once as you walked home, and you again wondered exactly what it was that he got up to that left his hands looking as they did, his face scarred up like it was.

It was a long walk, but a relatively peaceful one, cold as it was. You barely spoke to one another, but you didn’t feel like you had to; Jason seemed like a quiet type, and while you liked to fill a silence and could if you felt it was too quiet, you also didn’t mind.

You walked past the alley where the Red Hood had saved you last week, and you glanced at it quickly before looking straight ahead again, pressing your lips together and trying not to think about it. Turning the corner a few minutes later, your building the first one on the left, you announced, “This is me.”

Jason nodded, looking up at the apartment block, as he followed after you into the lobby. “We have to take the stairs,” you said apologetically. “Elevators have been broken for the longest time.”

“It’s fine,” Jason said again.

“It's really annoying, actually. You’re kind of a machine,” you joked, glancing back at him as you began the climb. You lived on the seventh floor—high up, but not the highest—and definitely regretted it every time it came to times like this.

Jason said nothing, really not looking like he was in pain at all. So, he was super fit. Clearly. “You work out a lot?” You asked casually.

He shrugged, then rolled his shoulders as you kept climbing. “Yeah. I guess.”

“You guess?”

“Not in a gym, if that’s what you’re thinking,” he said, and you hummed under your breath.

On the seventh floor you arrived at your door, unlocking it quickly and walking into your apartment, with Jason close behind you. You waved him on in the direction of your kitchen as you locked it behind you.

Jason placed all your bags on the counter easily, the only sign that they’d been heavy the fact he was flexing his hands. With a sigh though, you watched as he unzipped his hoodie, clearly hot from the walk, letting his hood fall back as he took it off and revealing a plain grey t-shirt underneath.

_Oh._

You put the bag carrying his things on the bench, too, trying not to stare as he ran a hand through his black hair.

So... Jason was _ripped._

You felt your ears going hot as you blushed, glancing away before your eyes snuck back to look. _Wow._

You had been able to see that he was tall, obviously, but you realised he was _really_ downplaying his size otherwise. He was broad-shouldered, which you hadn’t really been able to tell given his normally slouched position, with arms the size of tree trunks…

And he’d said he _guessed_ he worked out. Uh huh.

He looked over at you, almost shyly, as he put his hoodie into his bag of groceries. Without the hood, again you could see that burn on his left cheek. You passed over it quickly, really trying not to stare, and cleared your throat as you walked into your kitchen, busying yourself with putting your things away.

“You want to stay for dinner?” You asked. “It’s the least I could do.”

Jason shook his head, leaning over as he rested his hands on the counter. “I have stuff where I live. Don’t worry about it.”

“You sure?”

“Yeah.”

“Okay, then, well… feel free to stick around anyway,” you murmured, as his phone rang.

Jason tensed, glancing down at his phone, before back up at you apologetically. “Sorry. I have to take this.”

You nodded, and he lifted it to his ear, answering the call. “Barb, not the best time…”

You busied yourself with finishing putting away your groceries, listening to him as he moved into your small living room, staring out your balcony window and into the dimming evening light of the city. You watched him flush before he glanced at you quickly—and seeing you looking, looked away just as fast—before he said, “I’ll talk to you about it _later,_ alright?” He paused, listening. “Is that Dick? Barb, tell Dick to go back to Blüdhaven and stop being so fucking annoying.”

You cracked a grin, placing the ingredients for a simple risotto on the kitchen counter. He sounded annoyed, but in a way that you could tell wasn’t super serious… you didn’t think.

He sighed, turning back to look at you again, as he said quietly, “Not yet. I’ll look into it tonight. Send me the location,” he said, hanging up, slipping his phone back into his jean pocket.

“Who was that?” You asked curiously.

His eyebrows twitched as he walked back over to the counter, looking at the ingredients you were busy chopping up. “Just this girl,” he said.

Oh? “Girlfriend?”

He looked at you in alarm, shaking his head vehemently. _“God_ no. No way.”

“Alright, then.”

“Even if I _did_ like her— well, she’s taken, so it doesn’t matter. But… _absolutely_ not,” he said, almost looking comical as he considered it.

“Okay, Jason. Sorry I asked,” you said, as you tipped your uncooked food into a pan on the stove.

“I should hope so,” Jason said. _“Girlfriend,”_ he repeated with a scoff.

“Who was it, then?” You said with a sniff as the sound of sizzling food filled the air.

He shrugged. “Her name is Barbara. She’s an… well. I guess you could say she's an old friend?”

“Is that what she’d say?”

“I don’t know,” he said, tapping your counter with one hand, then conceded. “Probably. She likes to check up on me.”

“Like Dick?”

“Yeah. Yeah, like Dick.”

“Hmm,” you said, looking down to stir your food.

“Mind if I turn on the news?” Jason asked as you worked, and you nodded absentmindedly.

“Sure.”

He moved back over into your small living room, finding the remote and switching it on. Turning to look, you saw the GCN logo appear, and watched as Jason awkwardly looked around for a moment before sitting on the couch.

“You sure you don’t want any of this?” You asked as you finished cooking your risotto, plating some, happy to see you'd have enough left for leftovers the next day.

“No,” Jason said. “I'm alright.”

“Suit yourself,” you said, moving to sit next to him on your couch. He shifted awkwardly as you sat down, your leg touching his as you did both thanks to his size and the timing of his movement, and you glanced at him as he pointedly kept looking at the TV screen. 

Eating your dinner slowly as Vicki Vale discussed the recent increasing disappearances in Gotham, you frowned as you realised exactly what she was talking about—something the media probably didn’t know about, even if they had heard any rumours regarding it.

“Oh, she’s talking about…” You began as you realised this, before shutting up and glancing at Jason.

“About what?” He said, looking over at you.

“I don’t know,” you said, looking back at your mostly finished risotto. “Just something someone told me. I don’t know if it’s true... but then I guess I don’t think they would have lied…”

Jason was looking at you expectantly, one eyebrow slightly raised. “Apparently the Penguin has been abducting people,” you explained. “Some sort of trafficking ring. Or so I was told.”

Jason blinked, a frown on his face, before it cleared and surprise slowly washed over him. _“Wow…_ that’s not good,” he said.

“Right?” You said in amazement. “I’ve been thinking about it for a while, now. Ever since…” your expression tightening, looking at the TV as Vicki continued, before back up at Jason, whose body had twisted even more fully on the seat to look at you.

“Don’t tell anyone I told you this,” you warned, “but just over a week ago… well. Uh. You know the other vigilantes in Gotham? I mean, other than Batman?”

Jason stared at you for a moment, before saying cautiously, “Yes?”

“Well, get this,” you said, as you leaned in closer, “I _saw_ one of them the other night. He _saved my life,”_ amazement and wonder colouring your tone. “I’ve lived here _how_ many years and never seen one of the others before, and then _bam,”_ you said, eyes wide and staring into his own wide blue ones, “Red Hood was _right there,”_ you said, gesturing in the direction of Jason.

Jason blinked, his eyes flitting over your face, and you watched as a blush slowly crept over him. “R- Red Hood?” He said with a stutter, as he swallowed, and you realised you’d gotten much too close in your need to tell someone about it.

Sitting back abruptly, you nodded quickly. “I mean, thank god he was there, because if he hadn’t been…” You trailed off, your brow crumpling as you looked up at your ceiling, remembering just how lucky you’d actually been. “If he hadn’t…”

Jason said your name quietly, and you looked back at him. “He saved me from a group of the Penguin’s gang members. If he hadn't been there, I could have been another statistic to add to Vicki Vale’s list,” you said, jerking your head at the TV.

Jason was silent, and you worried that you’d said too much, or sounded like you were bragging in a roundabout way; while the people of Gotham of course knew about the city’s various vigilantes and accepted the need for them just as much as they accepted the fact there were supervillains running around, an actual sighting of them was super rare, and admitting to it was like the ultimate form of a celebrity sighting.

And not only had you seen one of them, you’d witnessed him in action, doing actual good work.

You yourself had only ever seen Batman before… and that likely would never have happened had the events of last Halloween not played out as they did.

“Sorry for just dumping that on you,” you said apologetically. “It’s weird, I know. But I haven’t been able to tell anyone about it,” you glanced down at your hands. Because really, what was the point? Other than telling people to be careful... “I know he was looking into these disappearances, though. He said so. And I was just really lucky that he just happened to be in the right place at the right time.”

“Mhm,” Jason said, and you blinked up at him as he slowly gave you a half-smile. “Well, I’m glad he was there, then. To save you.”

“Yeah…” you sighed. “To be honest, though? It’s really been eating away at me… even though it _is_ cool that I got to see him… I keep thinking about what could have happened to me if he hadn’t been there,” you said quietly. “It’s been hard to sleep.”

Silence. “I understand,” he said after a moment. “I find it difficult to sleep a lot, too.”

“Really?”

He nodded, looking away before back at you, and your eyes zeroed in on his burn before looking away from it again. “Been through some shit. Makes it hard. So. Yeah.”

“I’m sorry,” you said simply, and he sighed.

“Yeah. Nothing anybody can do about it now…” he glanced back at the TV, and then with a curse looked back at you. “It’s later than I realised. I have somewhere I need to be.”

“Rock climbing exhibition?” You joked, as he rose up, stretching. You tried not to look as his t-shirt rose up a bit while he did, the barest sliver of his toned, slim stomach right at your eye level.

Awkwardly, you stood too, as he looked at you in confusion. “Huh?”

“Your hands,” you said, inclining your head at them, and he looked down at them for a moment before they disappeared into his jean pockets.

“Oh… uh,” he said. “Rock climbing?”

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to stare, I just noticed them the other day in the café…”

“It’s fine,” he said, his lips pursing. “I do enjoy a bit of rock climbing,” he finally said.

I knew it. “Well, have fun,” you said, as he walked over and picked up his bag, before following him to the door to be polite.  
  
He looked back down at you as he reached up to unlatch and open it. You weren’t friends, you didn't think, and you definitely couldn't hug him, but the awkwardness of both of you in that hovering moment made your heart rate pick up as you felt the tension in the air growing thicker. “I’ll… be back at your shop,” he finally said, and you nodded.

“I’ll look forward to it,” you replied, and he glanced away.

He looked like he was going to say something else, but then the tension was broken as you heard his phone buzz in his pocket. He rolled his eyes, but got it out anyway, and flashed his eyes back to yours.

“Bye,” you said softly, and he nodded, dashing out the door and drawing it up to his ear as he did.

 _“Jesus,_ I’m on my way, alright?” He muttered, annoyed, and you watched him hurry down the stairs and out of sight.

You wondered what it was he’d been about to ask you as you closed your door.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Go and see Birds of Prey~ that is all I have to say, other than thanks for the continued comments :-) I love reading them!


	6. red and black

“Where’ve you been?” Dick asked—only _slightly_ demanding—over the comms as Jason swung up onto his designated rooftop for the stakeout at the docks. Barbara had quickly realised where her blind spots were and had given each of them a specific place to watch the large warehouse below.

As Jason landed, rolling and quickly sinking back into a crouch to observe the area, he glanced up and over at Dick, who was hanging out several rooftops over, leaning against a wall, shrouded in darkness. Even from this distance, he could feel his masked stare.

“I was in Bristol, alright? Took me a bit to get here,” Jason muttered, and heard Barbara chuckle.

“Bristol, huh? You finally pluck up the courage to speak to her?”

“To who?” Dick asked at the same time Tim said, “‘Her?’”

“Go stick your beaks in someone else’s business,” Jason snapped, embarrassed. “Oracle, so not cool.”

“Sorry,” Barbara said, sounding not sorry at all. “But you did, didn’t you? You must have.”

“Jesus, okay, yes, I talked to her. Or. She talked to me. We kind of… bumped into each other,” Jason said reluctantly.

“How cute,” Barbara mused. “And she apologised?”

“Yes, Oracle, she apologised.”

Jason listened to her hum on the other end, and could hear the curiosity in the silence from Dick and Tim.

“You got a girl, Hood?” Dick finally asked, as Jason was staring down at the warehouse, before rolling his eyes.

“Shut _up.”_

“You _do,”_ Dick exclaimed, and Jason looked over as Dick uncrossed his arms in surprise. “Wow. What’s she like?”

 _Whoops._ “Oh my god, I am not — we’re _not—“_

“She lives in Bristol, I know that much,” Barbara murmured over the top of him.

“Yeah, well I gathered that much too,” Dick said.

“She know about what you get up to at night?” Tim asked.

Wow, Jason really did not need to be questioned about this. He’d been too defensive and now they all thought— “I’m going to turn off the comms and do this myself if you all don’t shut the fuck up.”

Silence once more, before Dick cracked up. “I know you’re annoyed with us at the best of times, but you wouldn’t be so defensive if there wasn’t something more to this.”

“I just don’t like you prying your annoying self into my life, Nightwing.”

“Is she cute?”

Jason flushed beneath his helmet, as your face flashed through his head, but said nothing.

“She’s cute.” Dick said smugly when he didn’t answer.

“Wow, I hate this.”

“We’re only teasing a little bit,” Barbara said. “It’s nice to hear what you’re up to.”

“We’re supposed to be doing something more important than wondering whether there’s a cute girl in my life.”

“Cute girl,” Dick and Tim repeated at the same time.

“Oh, shut up,” Jason snapped.

“We’ve been at this for an hour, Red Hood. Nothing has happened; nobody’s in there, nobody’s been here at all,” Barbara informed him, and he sighed. Penguin was really playing hard to get.

“Anybody actually just go and try the Iceberg Lounge?” Tim asked lightly.

Jason rolled his eyes. “I went there last week,” he muttered. “No sign of recent activity.”

“Look at you being part of the team,” Dick said. “I’ve spent the last couple nights tracking down several old units Penguin used under old aliases, but they were all empty too. Wherever he is, he’s holed up nice and tight. Probably paying his boys a lot to keep them quiet.”

“We’ll find him,” Barbara assured him. “And if he’s not in Gotham, he’ll slip up. He likes the spotlight too much to hide forever.”

True that. Working with him when he’d been plotting his vendetta against Batman had been one of the more insufferable moments of the past couple years of his life. The sheer incompetence… really all he had going for him was his wealth, and as he’d since found out, a whole lot of that had been stripped from him by Dick and Bruce.

Sitting down properly, realising this was probably going to be another slow night, Jason pulled out his scanner and switched it on in the hope that it would find a trace of anything Penguin’s gang used. It started its incessant beeping, and he set it next to him to watch below.

“Hmm, heads up,” Barbara said a few minutes later. “Hearse pulling in.”

“A hearse?” Tim asked in confusion.

“Driver has a Penguin tattoo on his right arm.”

Jason leaned forward in anticipation, switching the view in his helmet so that he could watch the hearse approach and plan his attack; five people in the car, all calm, one more in the coffin in the back, unconscious.

“Wait until they get inside and then follow them quietly. I want to see where they go,” Barbara instructed, and Jason nodded. So did he.

The hearse rolled to a stop before the heavy industrial doors of the warehouse, but with a beep the doors rolled open and the car drove inside.

Silently, Jason turned off his scanner, slipping it into his pocket as he rose up and slipped down the building he was on, landing behind a large shipping container. With his detective vision, he could see Dick and Tim silently moving closer to the warehouse, too; Tim was going up high, Dick had had the same idea he’d had.

Once the car was out of sight of the open entryway, Jason made his move, stepping out and running on silent boots across the concrete yard, Dick just as swiftly silent on the opposite side of the yard.

They hit the warehouse wall, backs to it, and as Jason caught his breath, his heart racing as the anticipation built, he looked over at Dick.

Gesturing that they should each flank a door, Jason nodded, and moved closer to the entryway. The people in the car were filing out, unlocking the trunk door and rolling out the coffin. With them sufficiently distracted, Jason and Dick slipped inside, sticking to the shadows and going opposite directions to observe more closely.

Jason crouched behind a large crate, watching the exchange in his detective vision, glancing up as he noticed Tim drop to a railing hanging from the ceiling above, having found his own way in.

“Hold up, I’m detecting another presence in the area…” Barbara murmured into his ear.

“Penguin?” Dick whispered.

“No. They’re not approaching just yet… but wrong body type. Stay on guard, though. I can’t see you guys in there.”

“Understood,” Tim murmured.

“Wake up,” one of the thugs in front of him said once the coffin was open, slapping the unconscious person inside.

“How long till the boss gets here?” Another asked.

“Ten minutes at least,” another replied.

Penguin was coming here? Jason’s eyes widened as he inhaled sharply. Finally, a chance to get him and end this, tonight.

“I heard he ain’t comin’,” someone else said. “He never comes to these things.”

“I was jus’ told to bring her here. Nothin’ was said to me about Penguin.”

Jason deflated a little bit. They were just as ever the incompetent, unorganised thugs of Gotham. He glanced up at Tim, and then over at Dick, who was on the opposite side of the room.

“Someone wake her the fuck up.”

“You hit her pretty hard, man.”

Jason looked back up at Tim, who was clearly in the best position to judge when to strike. He flexed his hands, waiting for that moment.

The unconscious girl was out cold, Jason could see with his detective vision, so it would only be a matter of time before they would split up in impatience while they waited for whoever was about to arrive.

A few minutes later, Jason watched as another car drove into the industrial yard, stopping just inside the entrance of the warehouse. He ducked down further in his hiding place, knowing he was hidden but also knowing if someone was really looking they just might be able to see him.

Several more goons climbed out of their car, Jason now counting ten total in the warehouse. A _bit_ more challenging in number for himself to take out in a straight fight, but not much more; and with the three of them, it wouldn’t be a problem at all.

“Where is the merchandise?”

“Here.”  
  
Jason’s eyes tightened as he watched the new group approach the unconscious woman, a couple hanging back to open the trunk of the car.

“The boss coming too?”

“Nah. He’s in the new place.”

Jason let out a breath. That’s _it?_

“Okay. Want us to follow you?”

“No. Keep a low profile, we’ll send new information later.”

Tim raised his hand in a clenched fist from where he perched above them all, and Jason straightened, spinning his back to them and bracing himself.

_One… two… three…_

The telltale whistle of a shuriken was his signal, and Jason launched backwards, flipping over the crate and landing before a completely blindsided Penguin goon. He snarled as he reared his arm back and punched him, knocking him off-balance.

 _“Oof!”_ One of the thugs groaned out as Tim landed on him, swiftly knocking him out in front of Jason.

The three of them made quick work of the ten thugs; and Jason had to admit it was satisfying to see them all go down only within a couple minutes of their initial strike.

“Couple cars hanging back outside, probably just to escort,” Barbara whispered as Dick untied the unconscious girl moments later, slinging her over his shoulder with a grunt.

Jason looked over the unconscious goons, his fingers twitching at his sides with the urge to do worse to them. But it wouldn’t help him to kill them; not with this particular mission. Penguin’s goons needed to continue their godawful work so that they could find the ultimate location.

That didn’t stop him from stomping down on one of their hands, listening to it crack beneath his boot, however.

Dick looked over at him, blue eyes questioning beneath the black of his mask.

“How many?” Tim asked, sweeping his bo staff up behind his neck, also surveying their surroundings. There was no real point in searching the warehouse further; like they’d heard, it was just a stopping over point to the real hideout.

“They’re full. Ten, looks like,” Barbara murmured.

“Okay,” Dick said, thinking. “I’ll drive the girl out, you two go over the roofs, take one out each.”

He carried the unconscious girl over to the car that had just pulled in and Tim, hurrying ahead of him, opened the back door for him, helping Dick to lay her down gently in the back seat.

Jason slowly followed, thinking. “What about the other guy you saw, Oracle?”

“Hasn’t moved.”

Dick and Tim exchanged glances, and Jason looked up at the ceiling as if he’d materialise there. “He close?”

“Not really,” Barbara said. “Just looks like he’s watching.”

“Could be worth looking into.”

“You think he’s involved?” Dick asked as Tim shut the door.

He shrugged. “What’s he look like?” Jason asked.

“Can’t see. Looking at him on infrared; he’s in the shadows.”

“Okay,” Jason murmured. “Keep going with Nightwing’s idea, then. Let’s see if this newbie engages or not.”

Dick climbed into the front seat of the car; the keys thankfully still in the ignition, and switched it on. Jason and Tim slipped outside, each grappling onto the buildings they’d originally been on, moving to flank Dick as he drove away.

Jason hurried over the rooftops, glancing around and not seeing the guy Barbara had told them to watch out for. No time to waste with that at the moment, though. He switched his vision back to normal, leaping across a roof and skidding to a stop as he looked down at the two cars waiting closer to the exit of the docks.

Tim came to a stop opposite him, and Jason glanced at him briefly before back down at the cars, and at Dick slowly approaching. So far, so good…but it couldn't last, not with the very obvious Nightwing driving a car meant to be driven by their guys.

“Oi!”

“Shit,” Jason said, and watched as Dick slammed his foot down on the pedal, shooting past the cars; one of them instantly following after him. The other was struggling to switch on, and its shocked inhabitants were no match for the two of them as they each swung down, kicking the glass out and dealing with them quickly.

Jason dragged two of them out by the collar, slamming their heads into the gravel, making them cry out in pain. Tim was doing much the same on the other side although with a little more restraint; either way, it was over before it had even begun, and now Jason was alone with his replacement.

“Oracle, where’s Nightwing?” Tim was saying into his comm as Jason searched the car for the slightest hint of any new information, but it was all completely useless. Penguin had _really_ stepped up his game.

“Couple minutes down the road, he pulled over and got the girl out before leaving on foot to try and lose them,” Barbara said, and then cursed. “Sorry. He’s gone down a street where the cameras don’t turn; I can't follow him.”

“We’re on it,” Jason said, and they set off at a run, following Barbara’s directions as she gave them.

“What the fuck—“ Barbara said suddenly, almost in wonder, and then said, “Shit. Feed’s down. Sorry guys, someone knocked out the only camera view I had in the relative area…”

“It’s fine, Oracle, you said we’re nearly there—“ Tim was saying, keeping pace with Jason easily. Up ahead, Jason could see the car the thugs had driven away in, but nobody was inside; as they passed it they could also see Dick’s car with its doors still open—he’d left in a hurry. They turned the corner swiftly and headed down the alley just as they heard the screaming.

Tim glanced at Jason sharply, but Jason had already turned his detective vision back on; numerous people ahead, but they were… _unconscious?_ Jason’s boots hit the pavement just a little harder as he struggled to understand what he was seeing, the thugs they’d been chasing after already on the pavement, but Dick was nowhere in sight.

“Find him,” Jason said, flipping back to his normal vision as they stopped at the other end of the alley, all the thugs on the ground—more than they’d thought, twenty were here alone, clearly they’d had even more backup—and came to a stop before the same unconscious girl. She looked unhurt, he thought, as his eyes quickly scanned her, so he focused back on the others as Tim continued to move down the alley.

 _Strange._ They weren’t unconscious, he realised—some of them had clearly passed out, but others were writhing around, groaning, some with their eyes open, others with their eyes tightly shut. The odd behaviour he’d seen with his detective vision making a bit more sense as he watched them in confusion—it looked like they were doped up on something, but they looked _terrified._

“Red Hood, over here!” Tim called, and Jason looked up sharply, instantly running off in Tim’s direction, the confusion spreading through him. At the end of the alley, huddled up on the dirty ground, was Dick, also writhing, and Jason’s stomach dropped to his knees as he realised what was happening.

 _“Shit,”_ Jason swore, hurrying to him.

“What the hell is going on?” Barbara demanded, as Jason dropped down beside Tim. They looked at each other briefly, before back down at Dick, Jason knowing that now was not the time to snap at him for being around him.

“I don’t know, he looks spooked,” Tim said, confusion evident.

“They’ll fall…” Dick whimpered, eyes blown wide, pupils dilated—he’d definitely inhaled something, but how? Scarecrow was locked up, wasn’t he?

“Oracle, find out Scarecrow’s location, right now,” Jason said quickly, and felt the weight of Tim’s stare as he realised what he'd said.

“It can’t be… this doesn’t look quite right, plus... why would Scarecrow take out _Penguin’s_ guys?” Tim said after a moment, as their hands fluttered around the clearly distressed Dick, wanting to help but not knowing how to. “But, you’re right… this does look a lot like it could be fear toxin…”

“He’s still locked up,” Barbara said only seconds later. “I have a camera feed of him right now. It’s live.”

“So it isn’t Scarecrow?” Jason said, doubtful.

“Could be one of his goons.” Tim murmured, pulling out a syringe gun from his belt and without warning sticking it into Dick, drawing out his blood. “Either way, we need to know what’s going on with this if a new brand of fear toxin is loose on the streets.”

“No, _no,”_ Dick was groaning, _“please…_ Stop them…”

“He’s completely out of it." Jason said, panicked. "Oracle, what the fuck do we do?” His eyes had narrowed almost to slits as he glared up and around at their surroundings, but seeing nothing in the darkness to punish or to get help from.

“I don’t know, only camera I have in that area is down, I told you—“

Pushing back to his feet as she said so, Jason prowled back in the direction of the thugs, Tim calling out after him. He ignored him, knowing the Boy Wonder could play a much better nurse than he could, and stared around at the men lying on the ground, half writhing in fear. Seizing the first Penguin thug he laid eyes on who was awake, he pulled him up and shoved him up against the wall of the alley. “Who did this to you?” He said coldly.

“No more… no…” The man’s eyes rolled back, and Jason shook him roughly, his hands tightening on his collar.

“Hey. Who did this?” Jason said firmly again, and the man’s eyes locked onto his helmet for a moment, a brief glimpse of awareness washing through him as his hands came up to clutch at Jason’s arms.

“Is he still here?” The man asked quietly, voice shaking with fear as Jason frowned.

 _“Who?”_ Trying to be encouraging, but only sounding impatient.

“Red… so much _red…”_

“Who are you talking about? Come on. Spit it out.”

“He didn’t even say nothin’… he just came at us… out of the black… the red… _Oh…”_ Jason’s frown deepened as the man fainted in his arms, and let him go with a crash.

The _fuck…_

 _“NO!”_ Tim screamed from behind him and Jason gasped, running back around the corner to him and Dick, but skidding to a halt as his brain tried to process what he was seeing—but there was just so much _red._ So much _black._

His skin crawled, feeling like it was on fire, the alley disappeared and the sterile white tiles of that _room_ flooded his senses, bile rising to his throat at the smell and sound of bubbling, burning flesh… he was tied up, barbed wire digging into him if he even dared to move, he realised, gasping, sinking to the floor in horror as _his laughter…_

“No, no, no, _no—“_ Jason gasped, struggling for breath, his heart seizing in his chest in fear.

Panic. _Need to get out of here. Need to get out of here,_ his brain told him, but he was lost to it, the red and the black melting away as a tall dark figure at the other end of the alley stood silently, staring at him with its burning red eyes, the black floating around him ominously, scratching and grating unpleasantly and making him flinch.

“No… no… _please…”_ Jason stumbled back, the barbed wire digging into him, and he cried out, listening to the drag of the crowbar on the tile and click of _his_ shoes as he came nearer.

Tim screamed beside him— when had the Joker got him, too? Jason burned with fear, stumbling back, he wasn’t in the chair, he realised slowly, and stood, and turned, and ran, the scratching, grating sound behind him making him feel like he was going to die at any moment. Jason’s hands came up to clutch at his head as he moaned in pain, flinching as he ran, feeling sluggishly slow, like it was a nightmare. The clown’s maniacal laughter drowned nearly all other sounds out, the red and the black tearing at the corners of his vision as the world collapsed around him, until it went dark and he fell into it.

* * *

Jason awoke slowly, trying not to move as memories of how it felt to test barbed wire restraints tore at his mind, and tears flooded his eyes, the pain fresh and real.

But he felt muffled, and as he came to, the starless, cloudless night sky of Gotham above him made his exhausted brain realise suddenly that he wasn’t in that room.

The relief that washed over him as he realised this was so strong it made his tears fall, and his shoulders shake as he tried to keep himself together, but failed as his cries teared out of him. He reached behind his head with shaking fingers to the release of his helmet, pulling it off and gasping at the air, struggling to come back to reality.

Minutes passed— hours— really, he couldn’t tell, as he lay there, the after effects of the panic attack lingering, before he felt even remotely ready to face whatever had just happened.

He sat up, slowly, and with another shock realised he was no longer in the alley with Dick and Tim, but now on a rooftop, somewhere far from the docks. It took a moment for his brain to catch up, but as he glanced around, the prominence of Wayne Tower rising above him made him realise he was now on Miagani Island.

_How…_

Looking down at his helmet in alarm, he pulled it back over his head, sealing it, as he tuned back into the comms system, the GPS on the screen telling him he was close to Grand Avenue.

“Hello?” He asked warily, and instantly Barbara’s voice was in his ear.  
  
_“JASON!_ There you are, I’ve been so worried- I could hear you all but I couldn’t do a thing-“ She babbled anxiously, and then composed herself. “Dick’s here with me. Tim went back to get the girl.”

“What happened?” He croaked.

“I don’t know. Dick’s completely out of it, keeps waking up and falling back asleep. Tim’s a little better, but I haven’t heard from him since he dropped the girl outside GCPD.”

“I’m on Miagani,” Jason said quietly.

 _“Miagani?!”_ Barbara repeated. “Well, we haven’t heard from you in _hours,_ Jay. It’s 2 am,” she informed him, and Jason blinked up at the clock on the Tower as she said so. “You guys went down that alley around 10.”

Jason didn’t know what to say to that.

“Dick and Tim separated too, but both got back here around midnight. They don’t really want to talk about it but from the looks on their faces... I’ve been running analysis on Dick’s blood for the past couple hours but it’s taking a while… you were all clearly hit pretty hard with the stuff, whatever it really is.”

 _Understatement._ “Yeah.”

Barbara was silent for a moment. “Jason? Where are you? Do you want me to come and get you?”

Jason swallowed. “No. I’m too far. Just… gonna go and sleep.”

“Somehow you made it all the way to Miagani in your fear toxin state, Jason. I don’t really think you should be alone, especially not until we know what happened to you all.”

Jason’s eyes clenched shut in his helmet for a moment. “So where should I go?”

Barbara hummed under her breath, before slowly saying, “What about to that girl’s place? You know where it is, and you’re close, right?”

“I barely know her,” Jason said quietly.

“I meant close to her location, dumbass,” Barbara said with a sigh. “Go there. Explain what happened. Or don’t. Just please don’t spend the rest of the night alone. I’ll call you in the morning.”

“Fine,” Jason said, too weak to argue, and with a groan rose to his feet as Barbara clicked the comms off, his legs feeling like jelly.

 _Jeez._ That fear toxin… whatever it was… he’d never felt anything close to that when he’d inhaled Scarecrow’s stuff before…

Blinking, breathing slowly, he stared out at the relatively quiet night of Gotham, the nerves getting to him slightly as he realised not only could he not be bothered fighting Barbara about going to you, but that he also really agreed with her—he didn’t want to be alone, not after that, when his memories were too close to the surface.

Reaching down for his grappling gun, he pulled it out and launched himself off in the direction of Bristol, and the apartment building he’d been to only twice before.

Several minutes later, his body feeling like it should be in pain but as he made his way to your apartment realising he wasn’t, not really—it was all in his head—he swung himself heavily in the direction of your small balcony. It hadn’t been hard to tell which one was yours from the outside, but in his tiredness he misjudged the landing, and realising what was about to happen squeezed his eyes shut, bracing himself as he crashed through your window.

 _Yikes,_ he thought with a groan as he collapsed onto your carpet, not even finding the strength to roll properly as he'd been trained to protect his fall.

He lay there on the carpet for several moments, waiting, knowing the sound of the breaking glass had to have been painfully loud. He listened as he heard you rustling in your bedroom, clearly trying to be as quiet as you could possibly be, before your door cracked open the tiniest amount behind him with a creak. Tilting his head back from his position on the carpet, he watched as your head appeared, eyes wide and frightened, before you gasped and threw the door open, hurrying over to him.

“What…?” You began in complete confusion, your eyes moving from the vigilante on your living room floor before up at your broken window, disbelief and bewilderment warring on your face as he watched the fear fade from your pretty features.

“Hi,” Jason said weakly, hoping he looked better than he felt.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, that was fun to write (not) (I'm sorry Jason)... hope you liked it if you know wtf is going on, lmfao.. hard to write characters who are just kinda sitting there like ??? while the rest of us know what's happening.


	7. that night

You knew it had to happen eventually, your brain screamed at you as you were jolted awake by a loud crash and clinking sound of glass breaking, a heavy thud resounding as you registered that someone was in your apartment.

Your heart racing in your chest, you momentarily pulled the blankets right up to your nose, clutching them tightly, as if this was just a bad dream and you would be safe under the covers until you awoke.

But this wasn’t a dream, and you panicked; trying to move as quietly as you possibly could so as to not alert the intruder, you climbed out of your bed and moved on silent _—you hoped—_ feet to your door. Swallowing, you reached up with a shaking hand to touch the doorknob, and braced yourself—they could have a gun, they could be armed in other ways, they could be a drug addict, they could be the Penguin’s guys coming back to finish the job… all kinds of reasons for breaking into your apartment holding all sorts of things to hurt you with. You had lived in Gotham for years and had never had an actual break-in before, but you had known it would happen someday.

It was Gotham.

Squeezing your eyes shut for a second, trying to gather your courage, you thought that maybe if they were distracted you could run to the kitchen to grab a knife— _no, you idiot, run the OTHER way, out the door—_

You twisted the handle, cringing as the door creaked open a crack, and peered out into the darkness of your apartment. Eyes zeroing in on your smashed living room window, your eyes trailed down to the intruder on your carpet, and with a hot flash recognised the Red Hood’s red helmet as it gleamed in the dark, the vigilante laying still but as you watched tilted his head back to look at you silently.

Gasping, you opened the door, hurrying over to him as a cold breeze drifted in from the broken window, making you stare at it in bewilderment as you tried to process what was happening. “What…?” Where to even begin? What was he doing here? Why had he broken your window? Was someone following him? Was he hurt?

“Hi,” the vigilante said beneath you, drawing your focus back to him from your window.

He… _looked_ fine, you thought, albeit not relaxed from his tense body position, but you walked over and switched on your living room light anyway, the sudden brightness making you wince as your eyes adjusted. Glass lay in shattered pieces around him as you turned back to look at him, and while it seemed like he wasn’t seriously hurt from crashing through a window, he continued to lay there, unnaturally still.

“You… broke my window,” you said, unsure of what else to say, as you stared down at him.

His head fell back to the carpet with a thud. “Yeah.”

“I thought you might have been someone else.”

“At this hour?” His head raised back up, and again you felt how strange it was to talk to someone without any semblance of a face as you stared at his red helmet. His voice was emotionless, but it sounded quieter, you thought.

“Someone breaking in, or…” You gestured around, nervous. “I don’t know…"

The vigilante said nothing, you thought he was staring at you. Your eyes scanned over his body, pausing at the guns strapped to his thighs, ammo surrounding them in large quantities; the knives strapped to his calves; the various pockets that had to contain even more weapons on his belt… someone _had_ broken in, and you didn’t know what he could possibly want with you.

The way the thugs who visited the Nightcap whispered about the Red Hood ran through your head; it had always been obvious to you that they were far more scared of him than they were the other vigilantes who roamed the city. His reputation was that of a killer, crossing that line that the Bat had never crossed, and here this man was, lying on your apartment floor.

You hadn’t realised that those whispers had painted such a specific image of him in your mind, one you had believed without question, and even if he had saved your life, you realised now as you stared at the various weapons lining his legs that you might be slightly afraid of him, too.

“What do you want?” You finally asked, your heart beating fast again as you worried about the implications of him being there.

“Had… a rough night,” he said, his muffled voice still quiet.

You waited for more, but he didn’t seem as if he was going to give you anything else. “Well… you can’t just lie there.”

You watched as he shifted, tensing as he sat up slowly, but he made no move to do anything else. Simply sat there, looking down, his hood having fallen back to reveal the rest of his red helmet.

You pursed your lips. “Are you… alright?” You asked, slightly concerned. You didn’t know any proper first aid, let alone what to do about a wounded or dying vigilante, where to take him—the GCPD probably wouldn’t be the best idea, and you really didn’t think he’d like that.

He didn’t say anything, but you watched him shake his head, then stop to think about it. “I’m not sure.”

“The glass?” You suggested.

“The glass?” He repeated, then glanced around him. “Yeah. Sorry about that. Misjudged my timing. More out of it than I thought I was.”

“I see…” You mused, looking more closely at him. He didn’t look like he was bleeding, but little bits of glass were on him. “You want to maybe shake off the glass so I can tell if you’re actually hurt?”

He looked up at you again, but silently obliged, rising to his feet—maybe a mistake, god he was tall—and brushing off the small bits of glass that didn’t fall off him immediately. Without thinking, you reached up to brush a bit off that he missed where his helmet met his padded shoulder, and his gloved hand was instantly there, stopping you.

You froze. “There’s just a little bit…” you said, wide eyes searching his blank helmet for anything at all.

He pushed your hand back down, but reached up himself to brush it away.

You cleared your throat as he stared down at you. “So. Anything?”

He glanced down at himself. “Nothing serious.”

“So there’s something?”

“Nothing physical,” he mused, then looked back at you. “I… well… I don’t know how to say this, but something happened tonight, something bad. And we don’t know what it means yet.”

 _We?_ “Somebody did hurt you?”

He shifted, his gloved hands fidgeting as he rolled his shoulders, clearly uncomfortable with the question. “I… yeah. I don’t really know what they did,” his voice fading off, and you guessed he was uncomfortable with that, too.

And he came here? To your apartment? You didn’t know how to feel about that, whether it showed any semblance of trust from the vigilante or whether you were his only real option. “When you say ‘we’, you mean the other vigilantes, don’t you?” You murmured as you realised. “Are they alright?”

He shifted again. “Not sure. Have to wait until morning.”

“Okay.” You said simply, then glanced around your living room; the ordinary things lying around suddenly appearing to stand in such stark contrast to the armoured, loaded vigilante standing opposite you. “Do you need something? I don’t really… have anything. I have bandaids. Or bandages? Um. Some pain relief?”

He was shaking his head as you spoke, even as you were drifting off to your bathroom to fetch your few first aid supplies, but you paused anyway as you glanced back at him.

“Don’t need anything like that. I don’t think I’m physically hurt badly enough for anything.”

“I guess you would know,” you agreed, eyes scanning his body again, before looking over at the clock on the living room wall: it was 3am.

“Jeez,” you said, slightly annoyed. You had work in the morning. “If you don’t need anything, Red Hood, then what are you doing here?”

He stared at you for a moment longer. “Only place that was close with someone I know,” he finally said. Again you weren’t sure if that was because of trust or necessity—maybe it was some form of both—because he clearly didn’t seem happy with the fact he was here, watching as he crossed his arms defensively. “Uh… someone told me that I shouldn’t be alone tonight. I’m following that suggestion.”

“Someone?”

He just stared at you. Another vigilante, you guessed, wondering absentmindedly which of the Bat’s allies it was.

“Alright… well…” you tried to think what you thought about that while under the intense gaze of his helmeted face. “To be honest… I mean we _don’t_ really… know each other.” You cringed. “I mean, what happens if someone saw you come here?”

“Nobody saw me come here. Nobody around to see that,” he said, his tone clear and reassuring to you despite his muffled voice. “I may be out of it but I am trained to not fuck up like that.”

You squinted your eyes a bit as you accepted this, understanding that clearly that was the case.

Was it weird he was implying—not outright asking—if he could stay over, though? You didn’t know. He’d saved your life, you thought, feeling safe with the knowledge that if someone did try to follow him he would be able to protect you. But it was still scary. Thoughts of last Halloween drifted through your mind and you sighed, closing your eyes. “You saved my life, you know. I guess it’s all I could do to repay you if you want to stay here for the night.”

You opened your eyes as he uncrossed his arms, almost visibly relaxing before you. “I didn’t want to come here,” he said awkwardly. “But… thank you.”

Your mouth twisted, but you nodded. “Will you tell me what happened to you, now?” you asked as you walked around the corner to your linen cupboard to grab some blankets. He followed behind you slowly, and again you were reminded of how silent he had been that night; bulky as he looked, covered in weapons and leather, he was so quiet, whether out on the streets or following you in your apartment.

He leant against the doorframe while you opened the door, looking for blankets that he could use. It was clearly supposed to look casual, but with a glance you could see that he was still uncomfortable, far too tense-looking. “Don’t know. Really.”

“I don’t really believe you,” you murmured as you pulled several blankets out, shutting the door and turning to look at him. Your eyes drifted down to his guns again. “I’m not trying to interrogate you or anything. But if you want to stay in my apartment, I just want to know you’re not about to tear the place up. I don’t have the money to repair it.”

You watched his fists tighten as they crossed over his chest. “I only came _here_ because I can’t go back to my place and be _alone,”_ he grumbled. Then sighed, his head tilting. “Look, I’m serious, okay? We don’t know what happened. One moment we were tracking… well, that doesn’t matter. I was just hit with something and had a bad reaction.”

You cocked an eyebrow at that. “Drugs?” You mused as you walked past him, hearing him shift to watch you.

“I’d prefer that to whatever it really was,” he muttered, and you looked back at him questioningly, placing the blankets on the larger of your two couches.

“It can’t have been fear toxin, at least,” You said jokingly, the sounds of the screams of people on the streets last Halloween flooding through your head momentarily, and you were once again so glad that Scarecrow was locked up, far away, where he couldn’t hurt anyone again.

Red Hood said nothing, and that silence made your blood run cold, more so than the other silent answers he’d given. “Right?” You asked again warily.

He pushed off from the wall and moved to stand before you, forcing you to tilt your head to look up at him. “It might have been,” he said finally, bluntly, and your heartbeat stuttered in fear.

“God… no,” you said, sinking onto your couch, feeling heavy as anxiety sunk its claws into you.

Red Hood moved to sit on your other couch, saying nothing again, and you stared blankly at his featureless face.

“He’s locked up though,” you said weakly, looking for any reassurance. “Right? We’d have heard about that if he got out.”

Red Hood nodded, and the relief that flooded through you was overwhelming. “He’s still in prison. But, whatever this was, it sure felt like the shit he uses.”

“Oh, great…” you closed your eyes, sinking back fully into your couch.

“You know about it?” Red Hood asked slowly, clearly trying to understand your reaction other than the general fear most ordinary people had of the villain's weapon. “You can’t have ingested any of it before."

You opened your eyes, and slowly sat back up, drawing your legs up to sit cross-legged. Swallowing, you looked over at him, almost guiltily. “Not directly, no.” Then pressed your lips together.

The blank mask of his helmet was a truly intimidating thing; as he said nothing again, your mouth fell open to confess to more without really meaning to, trying to fill the silence. “Last Halloween,” you admitted, wincing as you thought about it. “Probably would have… no. I _definitely_ would have, if…” you glanced away. “Sometimes I think I must have. I get so afraid now, it makes me wonder if I did…”

Again, as you looked back, that mask told you nothing about how the vigilante was reacting. It was slightly unnerving. He shifted uneasily, though, looking uncomfortable on your couch, “You would know if you did,” as he said your name gently. “It’s… a _good_ thing people believed his threats,” he said as well, and you thought back to the mass panic of the few days leading up to Halloween, the mandatory evacuation that had been ordered.

“It is,” you agreed, closing your eyes, your heart stuttering at the thought.

“Are you alright?” Red Hood asked, and you opened them again to watch him, thinking about how to answer that, before he said, “Your pulse…”

Your eyes flashed as you realised that that helmet must be telling him an awful lot more than it looked like it could. “I’m sorry? You can see my pulse?”

“Yeah.” He shifted again, awkward. “Can make it show me your skeleton too.”

 _Jesus Christ._ “Well, don’t do that!” You said nervously, your hands coming up to cover yourself. “That’s really weird.”

“It’s necessary for planning attacks,” he said bluntly, and you froze. “Not on you, obviously,” you thought he sounded like he had to be rolling his eyes, his voice a weary sigh.

You kept your hands covering yourself, watching him suspiciously, and with surprise watched as he sounded like he sighed again, reached up to click something on his helmet, and then pull it off slowly.

Your eyes kept widening as he did so— _he can’t be about to show me his_ face— thoughts of Scarecrow removing Batman’s mask to reveal him as Bruce Wayne to the world running through your head.

You wanted to speak up, make him stop, but curiosity stopped you, and then a mess of black waves was revealed to you, pale skin, and— _another_ mask. Red, like his helmet, blue eyes beneath it watching you nervously as he tucked the helmet into his lap.

He was young, too, you realised. You hadn’t really expected that; you hadn’t really thought about it, but his reputation made him seem so much older, so much more battle-ready, with his guns smoking as he doled out punishment on the criminals of Gotham. But he looked to you as though he was in his early twenties.

You stared at each other for a while, until you finally mused, “Well. I almost thought I was going to recognise you, or you were going to tell me your name, or something. But you wear another mask beneath that?”

His mouth twisted— his _mouth—_ and you were drawn to it and the scars around it as he spoke, his voice low, but normal-sounding without the muffled tech his helmet clearly used. “Didn’t want you to be uncomfortable. But. Yeah, helps if anyone tried to pry it off or break it.”

You raised your eyebrows, still very surprised, but appreciative nonetheless. You couldn’t see a lot of his face beneath his domino mask, but it felt nice to be face to face with him regardless, and it made it easier to answer him. “Well… to answer your question, I don’t really like thinking about Halloween now. Not that anyone really does, I suppose.”

His eyes tightened, and he looked down. “It’s not the nicest holiday,” he agreed slowly. “At least you weren’t there.”

“But I was,” you said, without thinking, and then cringed. You’d not told anybody that; how could you? It wasn’t something you could just bring up to people, it’d make them think you were either insane, or involved with crime, or struggling so badly you couldn’t even afford to flee in a _mandatory evacuation._

Red Hood’s eyes flashed up to your eyes, tense and confused as they bored into you. “Excuse me? You _can’t_ have been. Only criminals stayed. And the cops… you were ordered to _leave.”_

Your face flushed under his scrutiny, and you stuttered, “I didn’t _want_ to stay, obviously!”

“But you did?” He looked appalled by the idea. “You’re a civilian. It wasn’t about you.”

“It was about Batman, I know,” you said quickly, and watched as his face tightened, before you were continuing. “I was on my way to the buses the night before, but I went a different route, trying to avoid the largest of the crowds, and something smacked the back of my head… I woke up, I don’t even know how many hours later, but I wasn’t on the street anymore, I’d been moved somewhere, and these _guys…”_

“Someone took you.” He stated, tone dark. “Hostage.”

“Yes.”

Red Hood’s fingers twitched. “Who?”

“I didn’t recognise their uniforms at the time. But they were talking to each other, and I had nothing better to do, so I was listening… they were like, a stealth unit, or something, going in before the rest of them arrived.”

Red Hood tensed, his fingers clenching into fists, and you looked down to watch. “Red and white uniforms, military, heavily armed,” you said quietly. “There was nothing I could do. They’d taken me somewhere and I had to listen as the sirens blared, the final announcements rang, the buses rolled out, and Gotham fell silent as they pushed me around, making me watch and realise I was alone.”

You looked back up into his blue eyes, and they were still tight beneath his mask, his face tense. He looked mad, you thought.

“Of course, it wasn’t until later that night when I realised what I was there for. Bait for the Bat,” you muttered, crossing your arms. “Heard the tanks rolling in… heard the angry snaps of their boss, who they called the Arkham Knight, as he gave the invasion orders… making me realise as I looked up at them that that logo on their uniforms was the Arkham one.” You shuddered, as Red Hood’s gaze dropped from yours again, staring down at his gloved hands.

“I’m sorry,” he said at last.

“It wasn’t _your_ fault,” you said, and he glanced back at you, not looking like he believed that. “Anyway, I wasn’t there the _whole_ night. Whatever it was I was being used as bait for, it drew him in, but, you know… it was Batman. He dealt with them pretty easily and rescued me.”

Red Hood sighed, and looked out your smashed window, sounding tired. “Batman saved you.”

“Yeah, took me to GCPD in the Batmobile and everything, told me I was safe,” you said, voice colouring with wonder as you remembered him, tall and dark and brooding as you had always expected he would be; the aggressive roar of the Batmobile as you raced through the streets. “First and only time I saw him in person, and it was doing something as amazing as that. Still can’t believe he was _Bruce Wayne.”_

Red Hood’s eyebrows raised as his gaze flicked back to yours. “Yeah. Wild.”

You pursed your lips, looking down at the bloody red bat on his chest. Had he known? “Anyway… I was there the rest of the night. Apparently it was far enough underground that the fear toxin stuff that everyone was worried about couldn’t get to us, but I still wonder, sometimes…”

He pressed his lips together, and then shook his head. “Like I said, you’d know if you were hit with it. It was a worse batch than what he normally used.”

Hmm. Even if you hadn't been, you still dealt with the fear of that night every day. “You were there, then, weren’t you?”

He leaned back slightly, turning to look back out your window. “Mhm.”

“Well, if you knew him, I’m sorry he’s gone now,” you said sincerely.

He blinked, looking back at you, blue eyes slightly more open, and nodded once. He must have. You don’t wear a bat without knowing what that means, surely.

Glancing up at the clock again, you cringed as you read the time once more. 3:30. Sighing, you got to your feet, and stretched slowly like a cat, hearing your joints crack. “I don’t mean to bring that up and then just go to bed, but I have work in the morning, so…”

He got to his feet too, placing his helmet on the floor. You paused to watch as he did. “Do you want the bed?” You asked, gesturing over your shoulder in the direction of your bedroom.

He shook his head quickly. “No. Fine out here,” he said, looking down at the various blankets you’d provided for him and your couch.

“No weapons or shoes on the couch,” you simply said, and pointed at the switch on the wall. “For when you want it off. Do you need me to come and check on you, or anything? What do I need to do about this fear toxin stuff?”

“Nothing. Just check I’m alive in the morning.”

“Very funny,” you murmured, but from the look on his face you could see he was serious. Frowning, you asked, “Are _you_ alright?”

“Better. Slightly. Just want to sleep.”

“Okay. Me, too,” you said, hovering in the hallway, but realising he wasn’t going to move until you were gone. “Good talk, Red. Haven’t told anybody about that before,” you told him quietly. “Help yourself to anything in the kitchen. Goodnight.”

“Goodnight,” he said after you, also quiet.

You walked back to your room, closing the door and hoping to at least get a few hours’ sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For the purposes of this we're operating under the "there's no way you could recognise someone who's just wearing a mask" superhero rules. Also, we're going with the fact that Jason's domino mask covers the J, okay? Think slightly more like Nightwing's, but not as dramatic as his. I kept staring at my words like hello he has a giant ass J on his cheek how do you not realise immediately it's Jason...
> 
> Everyone in the DCU is dumb and that's just how it is, lolol.


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